Authors: Multiple
Chapter Sixteen
“When I was your age,” Uncle Feeney said, “I was told the Creator
was in the water, the light, the night, and the wind.” We were taking a break
and finally sitting down again. “That meant I could swim in the Creator. I
could stand in the Creator's warmth, or coolness. I could feel the brush of the
Creator's fingers in a breeze.” I didn't say anything.
I was focused on the cedar tree in front of me. I could feel it
waking up. It had its roots deep into infinity and its highest branches were
singing. We call them the Standing People in our language. We're taught they
live so much longer than we do it is hard to communicate with them. They speak
and listen so slowly. It was dangerous to borrow the eyes of certain trees
because you might forget your human body as you would unwittingly spend years
looking at the world through their perception. It was one of the reasons an
Elder always had to be with you in the beginning of your training, so you
didn't end up stuck and have your human body die.
“Long and long ago, the People would dance at night,” the Cedar began.
“The Dance Chief held his ceremonial staff to open the dance, and it was as
large as the ones you two are holding, but it was made of my sister's wood. In
those days, the Dance Chief would place one end of his stick on the shoulder of
one partner and the other end on the shoulder of another. If they chose to
dance together, they were married. After the first dance was over, a young man
and young woman with beautiful long hair entered, but no one recognized them,
or knew what village they were from. They danced well, with one partner after
another, but the youth danced with only men and his sister danced only with
women.
“Before the sun rose, a local young man named Black Wolf had
fallen in love with the long haired youth, and had danced the Stick Dance with
him. He and his sister had slipped away before anyone knew they had departed.
But his new spouse had told Black Wolf he would need to have approval of the
twins' older sibling. Lightning Boy and Lightning Girl—for those were the
names of the couple—vowed to return a week later when the next dance was
scheduled. They had explained if Black Wolf were truly sincere in his love, he
would prove it by fasting until then. He had agreed and eagerly counted the sun
rises until the next dance.
“Black Wolf was the first one at the dance and waited until he
caught sight of the beautiful twins who just seemed to have always been there.
They happily shared their older sibling had given a blessing to their wedding,
and after the dance they would lead the groom to their new home, but gravely
informed him if he were to tell people where he went or what he saw, he would
die.
“The village admired their beauty and grace, but did not see the
three had departed before dawn and they left no tracks to follow. The twins showed
Black Wolf a trail he had never before noticed, and they followed it until they
eventually came to a small pond. With no hesitation, the couple stepped onto
the still water.
“This startled Black Wolf, who did not believe he would be able to
walk on water the way they were doing. His new spouse seemed to read his mind
and explained they were not standing on water but on the path to their home.
The Lightning Twins urged Black Wolf forward until he took a step onto the pond
and discovered it was simply short soft grass.
“The three continued until the path ended in a River he knew well.
The twins jumped in, but Black Wolf again paused, worried he might drown, since
he was no swimmer. The two seemed to read his mind and explained there was no
water, but that they had stepped on to the main road that would go past their
lodge. The young warrior took a hesitant step forward and found no River, but
tall and waving grass that was almost as tall as he.
“In only a few steps the trio had come to a cave near a powerful
falls. The twins entered and invited him in telling him this was their lodge.
They explained their older sibling would soon arrive. Black Wolf could hear
deep thunder in the west. He joined them and watched the twins take off their
beautiful long hair and hang it on an elk antler that was attached to the wall
of the cave. His new spouse smiled at him, his head bald as a squash. Black
Wolf did not believe this was really hair, and became frightened.
“Lightning Boy sat down and told him to sit beside him. But to the
eyes of Black Wolf his seat was the shell of a big turtle that raised up its
head and seemed to judge him. He refused to sit, since it was not a seat at
all. The twins insisted it was simply a seat.
“The thunder grew louder and Lightning Girl urged him to sit
because their older sibling was almost there. A huge clap of thunder behind him
pushed him forward and he turned to see a woman standing in the entrance of the
cave. The twins introduced him to their older sister. The woman entered and sat
upon the turtle the young warrior had been avoiding. The woman looked at him
carefully. She then told him she was headed to a council meeting and invited
Black Wolf to join her. When the young man asked if they would be riding, she
told Lightning Boy to bring his new spouse a horse. He left and returned with
an enormous rattlesnake which twisted and curled along the length of the cave.
Black Wolf exclaimed it was no horse and he would not be able to ride a snake.
The older sister frowned and told her younger brother his new spouse might
prefer to have a saddle and new bracelets for his arms and wrists.
“The twins returned with a saddle and bands for him, but in his
eyes the saddle was yet another turtle they attached to the snake and the
bracelets were living snakes they tried to twist around his wrists.
“He cried out in fear and asked what place he was in where he was
expected to live with snakes and other foul things. The older sister yelled he
was only a coward and lightning flashed from her dark eyes, striking him
senseless with a deafening crash of thunder.
“When he regained consciousness he was standing knee deep in the
cold River, grasping a bush growing from its bank. He looked around and saw no
trace of the cave, or Thunder and her siblings. He was completely alone. He
returned to his own village but discovered he had been gone for years. Everyone
had believed him dead even though for Black Wolf it was simply the day after
the last dance. When he told those around him what had happened, he died.”
I wondered if a same-sex couple legend ever had a happy ending. I
didn't think the Cedar Tree had a real future as a storyteller. I glanced over
at Uncle Feeney, trying to imagine him being a Dance Chief, but my heart wasn't
in it. He was hit by a fireball and burst into flame. He had time for a
ear-splitting scream before he became a smoldering pile of ash.
“You really didn't think it would be so easy, did you?” The Native
young man was still nude, still aroused, and still frightening me with his
smile. Small flames licked around his fingertips.
“I had my hopes.” I whispered, “Moth, I need you,” and caught a
flutter of brownish wings just at the edge of my sight.
“Don't blame me,” she sighed. “You asked me for his Name and I
gave it to you. It just didn't do you any good in terms of trying to rewrite
his Story. The whole point of this is to rewrite your own. A better question to
me would have been, 'What do I need to know to defeat my enemy?'—but--No.
Instead of trusting in my wisdom, you thought you had figured it all out on
your own.”
She flew towards me between the ashes of Uncle Feeney and the
untouched Cedar. I called out, “What do I need to know to defeat my enemy?”
Then she vanished in the flash of another fireball. Crap.
“Why are you assuming I am your enemy?” he asked his voice deep
and sultry. “Think of me not just as your lover, but as your mentor—and
tormentor. You will always learn more from your tormentors than your mentors.”
I stood to face him, aware of how much shorter I was than he. I lifted the yew
staff to the horizontal position I had used before. This time when the fire
struck me, it was more of a wall than the size of a basketball. I barely was
able to smell my charred flesh before I was unable to breathe. My body was
burning and I fell back in excruciating pain. Then there was only blackness.
Chapter Seventeen
When I started to become aware again, my body felt as if I were a
gigantic toothache. I was certain even my hair was hurting, assuming I still
had hair. My vision was overwhelmingly a deep gray and I could make out
movements, but no detail. I concentrated and felt rough fingers smearing
something cool on my arms. It felt like mud and I vaguely wondered how horrible
it would be if someone was using pig turds as a salve. I was aware I hated my
life.
I opened my eyes and saw a barely recognizable lump of mud in the
shape of the Moth. I looked up and into the endless depths of my tormentor's
eyes. I thought I saw a hint of flame in the pupils, but it was gone so quickly
I might have just imagined it. Pain surged and I looked down to see tiny
eruptions of fire from his palms play along the muddy length of my arms. He
seemed to be baking my flesh back on to my bones. I almost threw up when I
looked lower and realized he hadn't gotten around to the bottom half of my
body. I was just a blackened skeleton from the waist down. The pain was so
great I could hardly think. I passed out again.
I would wake up again for a few moments and feel his hands wet and
sticky with the mud. I would black out when the fire would begin to burn me
again. The fourth time I was breathing rapidly and I realized his large hands
were wrapped around my cock and he was smiling. I looked into his hands and was
shocked to see how huge he had remade me. It reminded me of a legend where
Coyote's penis was so long that in order to walk, he had to wrap it around his
waist like a fire hose. “And what could you possibly do with a dick so large?”
I asked. “Sit around and admire it?”
He laughed. “You know how the legend goes.”
Coyote cut most of it off, the way everyone knew Cancer would
eventually cut off his braids to look like a banker. The Story ends with “--and
that's why a human male no longer has an enormous penis.” My tormentor pulled
out a long knife that caught the light with a wicked sharpness. I passed out
once more.
I don't know how long I was out, but when I came back, his mouth
was sucking on my revised and revived cock. Moth flew past in the drunken
flight pattern of a butterfly. I felt once more I hadn't been exposed to the
appropriate set of legends to prepare me for this. Somewhere inside my head I
heard, “If you lick it, they will come.”
I tried a quick inventory to make certain I wasn't missing any
parts, but he was very distracting. I started tensing various places and
everything seemed to be where it should. I moved my head and relief flooded in
as I felt the familiar weight of my braids against my shoulders. The warmth of
his breath against my thighs excited me. I wondered if I should tell him I was
a top, and then for a moment wondered exactly how many changes he had managed
since he seemed to have completely remade me. My mind felt the same so maybe it
was like hardware and software programs. I had gotten a hardware upgrade, but
the operating system was a constant.
I enjoyed the attention, but was distantly aware of the fact I still had no
erotic attraction to him. The fact he had incinerated Uncle Feeney, Moth, and
me—just might have something to do with it. Spirits apparently had exotic
courting rituals. With my Eagle and Deer, our relationship was definitely a
child and substitute father one, which made sense given the fact I had started
out at age eleven. A sexual animal power would have felt abusive back then. I
was trying to make a connection of how that parental interaction was probably
the norm, but then he sucked harder and my mind was suddenly blank.
I woke up with a start, awakened by Moth landing on my nude body,
her sharp little feet digging into my navel. I looked around and didn't see
him. The area around me didn't seem very stable, and lines and curves were
indefinite. I wondered where we were. “Are you OK?” I asked Moth. What did it
mean for a spirit animal to go through a shamanic initiation? Wasn't that
redundant? Or was it some sort of spiritual evolution? If so, it hadn't seemed
to work. Moth was reborn as Moth. It wasn't a promotion. She still had the same
dull muddy colored wings.
“You're only seeing my wings as brown because you have a very
limited perception of the spectrum. Borrow my eyes for a moment and see what I
see.” I resented having her in my mind, but complied. I had never used the eyes
of an intelligent being like this—borrowing the eyes of another human is
taboo. Aunt Beans had told me early on it would either drive you insane, or the
human you were invading. She said it was like a psychic rape. The only time it
was permitted was if the other person was in a coma, and then it only worked
because the senses of the patient were disconnected, so you technically weren't
borrowing. The technique then became just a way of directly communicating.
That's what had happened when I was trying to distance myself from Nathan.
Just so, the borrowing was almost instantaneous, and I felt
disoriented by shifting to faceted eyes, but I was used to dragonflies and
bees. Looking at my/her wings, I was rendered speechless by the patterns on
them in colors for which I had no words. I didn't know if I were seeing
infra-red or ultra-violet—or hell, for that matter if I wasn't “using”
light, but seeing magnetic fields or gravity for that matter. I pulled out
because my head felt as if it would explode. The closest I had ever gotten to
this was suddenly having the sense of smell of a wolf, or trying to keep myself
separate from a hive mind when I borrowed from a bee. “Wow,” I whispered. “Is
this like, Moth 2.0, or have your wings always looked like this?”
“It's hard to explain.” She fluttered up, landing on my shoulder.
“We're in an in-between space that has different properties than the world
you're used to. Otherwise, we'd both be truly dead. In the everyday world, you
could be burnt to a crisp, but you couldn't be rebuilt from the bone up.” She
paused for a moment, and I could feel her poking around in my head. I frowned
and pushed her out. “Ouch,” she said. “I was just trying to figure out how to
talk about this in a way you'd understand it. Here your body was rebuilt, but
your spirit-self remains the same. When you return to your everyday life, your
body will be the same, but your spirit-self will be different. You'll have
easier access to the Spirit World.”
“So your wings will always look special in the in-between space,
or in the Spirit World.”
“Close enough. We don't really have the time for this sort of
discussion. He'll be back soon. He's gathering food because when you are reborn
like this, you need nourishment.”
“What happens now?”
“Think of it as supervised practice. You'll go with him and learn
to use your new body so you don't end up doing something later that would
accidentally injure others or yourself.”
I thought of Mrs. Suskin and wondered if whatever had pitied her
had taken her out for “supervised practice,” or if the sense of corruption I
had felt with her was due to the fact she had just tried to “wing it.” I sat
up, disturbing Moth and looked behind me because I heard footsteps.
“I hope you're hungry,” he grinned. He held up the rough cedar
bark baskets one of my uncles used to make on the spot. They were the sort you
didn't tend to see in museums, but were the “quick and dirty” type you made
when you were outside and discovered something you hadn't expected to find but
wanted to take with you. They were crudely stitched with deerskin laces. One of
them held huckleberries. Which shouldn't be ripe enough to pick until August,
so I figured time wasn't a constant here. I thought of the Cedar Tree's story
and how Black Wolf believed he had only been away for a single day, but in his
own world, years had passed. Echo handed me a roughly carved stone cup to let
me take a sip of water as a prayerful way of starting a meal. I automatically
sang a table song, and after a few notes worried I should have let him take the
lead, but he just sang along with me. Moth had gone off somewhere since as an
adult, she wouldn't eat—she didn't even have mouth parts.