Copyright 2002 - 2003 by The author retains all rights to this story and requests that you do not alter or post this story in any form without his permission. The following is a work of fiction.

This story will contain gifts of love and caring between a man and a boy. If you don't like love, then stop reading now. If love and caring between unrelated men and boys is illegal where you are, then I'm sorry for you. If you aren't old enough to legally read this story, then I hope someone loves you enough to read it to you. If you know of a Finding Place and have stories about it, please give me a gift and share.

My deepest thanks to Rod, I name him friend and what he's given me helps make this story sing.

To Ganymede and Teglin I thank you for the beauty you have shared and hope this reflects a fraction of the light you shine so brightly.


Part Seven - Tunkasi and Cloud Walking

It seemed the closer I got to Valentine the closer I was to everything that should have mattered in my life, but that I had forgotten. Now I couldn't have named a single client or recalled the details of a case I tried last week, but I was remembering my childhood self as if he was alive just yesterday.

The truth of time and distance shifting in my focus, what did I care of man made laws and legal wrangling arguments? The truth of family, home and love for years had buoyed me up from underneath, but now it seemed to fight to be on top. No, not really fight, there was no struggle going on. It just floated up and out and covered all my rambling thoughts like the waving grasses all around. Virgin prairie grass, rangeland pasture running on the Western side. Tamed grass, winter wheat waving on the East. Both bowing first beneath the tender caress of Tate's breath then shining back the golden kiss of Wi.

Grandfather may be laying dead upon the hospital bed, but I guessed more likely he would be waiting for me now as he told me he had been then. I would be there soon. No, I had been there all along, I had not forgotten how, I had simply forgotten to! I let my heart shout out its love and listening with my chest I heard that love immediately returned.


I remembered the rough touch of Grandfather's unshaven cattle count cheeks as he hugged me close that night. The popping of the cottonwood cast in upon the fire. The stark beauty of the moonlight Hanwi was shining all around. The glowing on my brother's honeyed skin.

Our heart knew that neither Running Deer or I had ever heard this song before. We sat in boyhood silence gazing at the picture skin. We were not shocked or stunned or any describable emotion. We were loved, had always been loved, had never doubted love given us by our Grandfathers. This story changed that not the slightest bit. In fact, those might have been two other boys, two other men, pictured on the skin. Our lives were bound up in who we were, who we loved, who loved us back and not some mystery of how we came to be. That my brother held our hand, our heart and I held it too was mystery enough for us.

That hand spoke to me and I answered back in kind. We loosed our touch of body, yet held the touch of hearts. I moved to lean against Grandfather's knee, my brother went to Grandfather Coyote's. Cloud Walking led Straigthorn to a tipi by the hand. We sat in silent harmony watching the patterns in the fire, the hunter walking slowly round the sky.

Together Running Deer and I rose and pulled our Grandfathers to their feet. We led them to our tipi and pulled them both inside. I placed my brother's gift of moccasins next to his by the door and he helped me with my leggings as I helped him with his. They were soon hanging in the space where usually they lived.

Turning to Grandfather, I hushed his whispered protests by stretching up to kiss his lips quiet as I unbuttoned first his shirt and then his jeans. He pushed off his boots as I pulled off the shirt. Then hugging him against myself I slowly went down on my knees and reaching up I eased his jeans down off his hips. He sighed as my hands trailed down his thighs taking the denim with them. He gently clasped my shoulders as he leaned from side to side stepping one foot out and then the other.

He lifted me underneath the arms and pulled me to his chest. I felt the beating of his heart against my heart mingled with the echoes of Grandfather Coyote's mixed within my brother's cradled at our side. I felt the beating of his heart within his penis pressed against his briefs, the breechcloth I still wore, the bottom of my tender sac. "Settle down," I whispered in his ear and kissed it.

I loosened my hold around his body and as he put me down, I moved his hands to the tie holding the breechcloth still in place. He pulled the knot and held the cloth at my behind. It fell forward off my body yet not dropping on the robes. He held it still, then lifted up and kissed it turning to hang it in its place. Turning back he looked at me and sighed again and started once more to speak. I pressed my left hand fingers to his lips and cupped the bulge in his underwear with my right. I dropped again and used both hands to lift the fabric from his straining pole. Using my arms to remove them, I cupped my hands around his cheeks and drew down along the backside of his legs. He shuddered as my fingers met then parted across his crease. They slid down thighs and calves and ankles; finally, one, then the other moving across his feet.

I felt my brother begin our gentle touching on Grandfather Coyote and I reached up to Grandfather. My fingers felt his rod, as big as I remembered thinking it had been. It was stiff and rigid in its still loose skin. His balls were dancing in their sac, I wondered if this was another dance of growing. I smiled as I lifted them to dance upon my palm. They had their own intricate twists and turns, alive within my hand. My other hand's fingers were gliding up along the strident shaft just brushing on the head as it peaked out from its hood.

Rolling the writhing balls between my fingers and softly pinching the skin against the staff I pulled down drawing the head completely out. It looked darker than the outer whiter skin and I knew it would be purple in the light. The triangle of sensation, where Straighthorn had shown us some of the greatest pleasures lie, was tightly holding back the head from seeming to pop off. I held the hood down with the fingers of my hand still holding grandfather's balls and stroked the puckered triangle with the little finger of my other hand. Grandfather shivered and I knew this was as good for him as it was for us when we pleasured each ourself.

A drop of Tun appeared at Grandfather's penis eye and I knew this was his essence. This was the Tun that I should feed upon, that would forever keep me safe, that would bind me to Grandfather tighter even than our love. I stood and found that my brother too was standing and we led our Grandfathers down into our bed of robes.

The drop was beaded at the tip of Grandfather's pole and I lay down beside it and sang a chant of thanks for its gift. My brother's voice joined my heart and we knew that this was right.

I leaned in and licked the drop directly on my tongue. Grandfather shuddered and his balls squeezed up another drop. The taste upon my tongue was silver moonlight mixed with thyme, I took the second drop. It was slicker than my mouth juices and I rolled it round between my teeth. As I breathed the taste and smell of Grandfather entered my entire body. I placed my mouth over Grandfather's penis head and suctioned up some more.

He lifted off the robes a bit and his penis slid deeper in my mouth. I backed up a bit surprised, but our connection knew just what it wanted. He followed my lips, longing for their touch, my head moved back down and my tongue tickled that triangle of skin just beneath the weeping eye. Like Brother Crow's gift-for-gift and gentle reaching beak, I moved back up and down. Grandfather gifted me with more.

My brother was singing in my chest, his thanks for life, his thanks for love, his thanks for Grandfather Coyote's gift. I could almost taste and smell the difference between our separate men. There was no difference between the enveloping love.

Then Grandfather's hand was laying on my shoulder. He was thrusting up a bit and then he squeezed my arm and squeezed his butt and stuck his pole up high. It brushed my throat and swelled inside my mouth. It shot his hot and precious milk. The first shot ran right down my throat and joined him totally to me. His second shot hit my tongue and flooded it with heat and spice and flavor. My brother shared his joy that Grandfather Coyote had joined him too.

I licked and sucked and swallowed every weakening shot until the last didn't race out to join the rest inside myself, but slowly flowed out sitting on my tongue as if reluctant to leave its nest. I knew where this sweet gift belonged. I cradled it on my tongue and sitting up met my brother coming now across to me and we mixed and shared each the final drops of Tun from our protecting Tunkasila.


I was here, I was on the outskirts of town.

The prairie turned to pasture, locked in small two acre plots; a horse, a goat, a group of geese bounded in by fences. The fences changed from wood and wire to link, the pasture now a yard; dogs and cats and bikes and swings and kids bounded safe by fences. The fences changed to small white pickets, or disappeared, the yard now something called a lawn; no dandelions dared to grow, no toy dared stay upon the grass, life seemed bounded out by invisible fences and private law.

It hadn't changed: it was completely different. One discount retailer gone, closed, broke, parking lot littered with shining glass and weeds. The other discount retailer triumphant in apparent victory proclaiming they would Always look out for our interests.

When Grandfather was a boy who could have ever thought the general store downtown would need more places than you could hitch four horses and a wagon or two or three. That a thousand items displayed on towering hand-made shelves could not meet every conceivable need. That you'd not be greeted at the door by your name, but the store's.

Life was not simpler then, it was harder sure by far. Daily struggle yielded food or heat, the difference between long-term life and death. Today the struggle yielded DVDs or Tivo, the reported difference between long-term happiness and deprivation.

I turned into the hospital parking lot with Grandfather singing welcome in my chest. I sang him back my life, my love. I had not forgotten, just misplaced the knowledge how.

The nurse told me he was sleeping, had been since they told him I was coming. Then an hour or so ago his heart had strengthened in his sleep, the lines upon the monitor stronger, surer, more regular in their insistent beat. I smiled to think I had shouted him my love just then.

She told me she knew it was a terrible drive, "We are so far from everything!"

I told her it had been a beautiful trip, and I knew this was the center of everywhere, the core of my existence.

She looked at me funny and apologized because I could only be with him 5 minutes every other hour.

I told her we shared a life, a lifetime, five minutes more here and there was simply extra blessing.

She led me to his bedside.

I was holding his hand 50 feet before I got there.

He told me he was better; weak, but not yet broken.

I laughed that he would never break.

He sighed that wasn't true, but today was not his day. He had things still to do.

I told him I would help him, I was here to stay.

She hovered over his still closed eyes watching lights and numbers blink

He told me to leave now, he was held up by my love.

"The Finding Place," he whispered in my heart. "Listen for its call."

She told me I should leave now so he could continue to recover.

I told her he was fine now and I said I'd go, but he knew I was never leaving. I placed my hand against his chest.

As I drove back out of the parking lot I knew that shout an hour ago and this five minute conversation had meant as much to him as those nights out on the range had meant to the boy me.

I turned North and West and followed the road the school bus had taught me always took me home.

I left in such excitement every morning; the stuff I'd do, the friends I'd see, the books I'd read, the things I'd learn kept me always in an almost feverish state. Every afternoon I'd ride it home just as excited; so much to tell Grandfather, so eager to feel his arms around me, so hoping we would go, as we always did, from stable to barn, from horse to horse and ranch hand to ranch hand spreading his brand of honor, respect and love.

I never dreaded that trip either way, I dreaded nothing now. This day I was already home.


That morning I awakened twisted in my brother's legs, Grandfather's arms, Grandfather Coyote's braid's embrace. I hummed my happiness and love. Running Deer's eyes flickered open and he hummed his happiness too. We wiggled round and freed ourselves and ran laughing to the bushes.

Dashing to the stream we found Straighthorn and Cloud Walking sitting near the other side, chest deep in flowing waters. Daring the water to tickle our everywhere we jumped in and started our morning splashing games. The thrill of the cold sucked our balls up to our bodies and our penises almost inside. We didn't care, this was total body contact.

We finally rested near the bank, the water tickling gently up and down our legs. This usually had the same effect and soon our boyhood's were standing stiff and kissing back the sun and water.

I heard Grandfather back behind me whisper something to Grandfather Coyote and suddenly we were lifted and carried shrieking out and thrown into the faster moving waters. "Again!" we cried and clambered back into the their arms.

This game went on till our Grandfathers cried they could not lift us once again. We fell giggling upon them and made them carry us to the shallow waters where we all sat basking in the sun once more.

Straighthorn and Cloud Walking had watched our combination flying swimming splashing game yet never moved from their peaceful spot. Now Cloud Walking looked across at us and told Grandfathers, "Yes, I will stay, they are ready." With that she stood up and strode across the stream towards our side.

I was surprised she had no real breasts of any kind, of course she's old I thought. As she slowly came up out of deeper water though, my brother gasped within my chest. Cloud Walking had the penis and balls of a brave! This time we were stunned into silence. Our eyes glued to the unexpected dangling orbs and slender sheath carrying what must be exactly the same as ours.

We sat there many minutes after the others had left. Our mind revolving whirls of thoughts, not questions really, back and forth between us. "Two Spirit!" my brother said with awe, "Wakinyan's holy magic," was all I could reply.

We finally heard our stomachs call that they needed magic of their own and hand in hand we turned towards the shack and walked across the prairie.

Inside all was back to seeming normal. Cloud Walking, once again in her squaw's deerskin dress called us to help with breakfast. We worked in silence making fry bread and bacon, mushroom, onion eggs. Grandfathers both came in with Straighthorn to join us when it was done. Then Cloud Walking shooed us out and we sat again upon the porch. This time we couldn't sit in silence. "What..." I began, but Straighthorn bade me stop.

"Cloud Walking is Winkte, one of the holy two spirit beings. She has lived among you for days and you know her for what she lets you see. She let you see her wonderful cooking, her singing and her dance. She shared the visions of the people and helped you see each other. She made it so you learned to sing within each other's chest."

We nodded that we knew, he spoke truth about our joining.

"Today he let you see beyond the outer layer. He has agreed to stay and teach you. To help you with your spirit quests, to guide you with his knowledge of yourselves and the stories not yet painted on the skin."

Grandfather added, "Little Kit, you will stay here with Running Deer and Cloud Walking for a year. You will both learn more about the prairie's ways and of the spirits of the Wakan Tanka. You will find your spirit guide. Cloud Walking will bless you with a Winkte name: protection and guidance for all your life."

Grandfather Coyote spoke now, "Running Deer, you will lead Little Fox into the council of Lakota. He will be adopted in your family as I adopted Grandfather long ago. If you wish to learn these things you must tell us you will stay. You may think about it and decide tonight."

"Han!" Running Deer held my hand and looked into my eyes. "I will stay, I do not need to think."

"Grandfather? What about my school?" I asked.

"You will learn more here than all the time you spend in school, you will lose nothing while you stay."

"Hau!" I shared my brother's gaze. "I will stay here too."

"Good! Then come inside and clean these pans!" Cloud Walking called out from the door.

Straighthorn was laughing loudly as we scampered quick inside.

Little Kit and Running Deer links are at