Author's Note: I've added a lot of additional text for you to read at the
                  end of story part 8. It bears a  `Revised: 7/99'  heading.
                  Please be sure you've read it before continuing with this
                  next account to the series!
                                                                          8/99
  *****************************************************************************
  WILLOW-BIRD-WARRIOR-9                         "Willow Bird, Warrior, part 9"
  (Part #9)                                      Copyright 1999 by Vince Water
  *****************************************************************************
  *                                                                           *
  *                          "Willow Bird, Warrior"                           *
                                   - part 9 -

      The tall elk skin tipis of my tribe come into sight. I'm feeling lost by
   their new arrangement so I have to read the painted glyphs over them to see
   who lives there. Warrior Oaken Strength has drawn a mighty tree above his
   doorway surrounded by two clenched fists. Everyone knows how thick this
   man's arms are likened to the branches of an oak tree. His tipi has been
   adorned to reflect his identity in our tribe along with coup marks to show
   how many enemies that he's fought in battle and killed.

      My eyes fall to the next tipi. It's painted with men on horses hunting
   the elk. Holds Reins dwells here with his wife, Spring-flowers-in-her-hair.
   This man is a newly feathered warrior who is a good hunter of the elk. Even
   our chief defers to him when leading our braves on a hunt. Almost three
   moons ago, Holds Reins was racing down the trail one early morning after
   Song Bird and I had just made love over Pai-alucia's back. We ducked into
   the woods from him and the other braves thundering past our hiding place. A
   warrior in the rear of their party discovered us though.

      I'm startled by my mother's calling of my name. She hurries towards me.
   My eyes look her over for signs of change and I notice worry lines under
   her eyes that may have come from a lack of sleep.

      "Are you feeling better today, my son?" she asks.

      "Yes, mother." I endure her long stare over my body. She first notices
   how short my hair is from having its burned lengths cut back. Her fingers
   touch upon my shoulder wound that had come from Crumobia. She grimaces at
   the scars covering my arms and legs but seems relieved that my butt is
   covered. Only a temporary thing! I keep my grin from showing.

      "You always return to me with injuries!" she scolds, "but I'm pleased
   that you have come back."

      My mother hugs me. I slowly accept her embrace that makes me feel
   awkward for some reason. It's like I'm her little boy who needs comfort
   from what those big bad wolves had done. The people of my tribe pass us by
   with grins. I'm trying to keep my embarrassment from showing.

      Finally, my mother steps back from me. I'm surprised that there are
   tears in her eyes! I scold myself for having felt badly about her. She is
   my mother and all sons no matter what their age must feel as I do - that
   we're their little boys.

      "Have you eaten?" she asks.

      "No." My stomach doesn't rumble though. There's a tightness in my belly
   that comes from feeling strongly for that boy I've just made love to in the
   woods. It has chased my hunger away. I follow behind my mother when we make
   our way past the tipis. I'm marking their placement as we go.

      I smile when spotting the tipi Crying Loon dwells in. His father is
   warrior Bending Arrow and he has painted glyphs of the masked raccoon,
   rabbits and squirrels caught in twine snares over his doorway. This man is
   a trapper of small animals and he is skilled with tanning their soft hides
   for use in pouches and ceremonial clothing. As a brave, he was called
   Little Hunter but our People have renamed him Bending Arrow in jest. I've
   heard that it brings the man much embarrassment.

      My mother pauses in front of a damaged tipi. I notice the stretched
   stitching above its doorway that tries binding the elk hides together. Its
   painted glyphs are distorted and much faded by the sun. This is my mother's
   tipi? Ah. Big Horn's rampage through camp comes to mind when he had clawed
   his way through the tipi to try finding me before he died. My head lowers
   from shame.

      "You can bring back hides from your hunting for me to sew into a new
   tipi," asks Warm Hands.

      I face my mother with pride. "I'll provide for your needs, my mother."

      "That is good, my son."

      She waits for me to enter since a man always goes in before the squaw.
   I find a place to sit over the dirt. My mother takes her place on the
   sleeping mat. I look around my boyhood home with surprise. It is a small
   dwelling. I've grown into manhood since I've been away.

      My mother silently hands me a bowl of deer meat. I notice that this clay
   vessel was my gift to her brought back from the Moss-bowl Tribe. A happy
   time for Big Horn and myself. My head hangs when remembering how it was
   also an ending for us. I slowly chew the seasoned meat but don't really
   taste my food. I'm enduring too many painful memories.

      Some of them concern my own mother. I put the bowl down and face her
   with a burning question. "Why didn't you tell me about my brother?" I ask.
   Her eyes grow wide from my accusation and fill with tears. My question has
   upset her. I begin to regret having asked it in the manner that I did.

      "Your father... asked by the chief for this favor," the woman stutters.
   "I could not prevent my husband from laying with Yellow Deerskin! It was
   our leader's shame for not being able to sire a son of his own."

      I'm surprised to hear my mother talking about Song Bird, my half-brother.
   From what was said, I gather that she was against their copulation that
   gave the chief his son. I'm glad to know this from my mother but it wasn't
   what I was asking of her. "No. I meant Second Bird, my full brother..."

      "Second Bird?" she asks.

      I see puzzlement on my mother's face. How can she not remember her
   second born son? My eyes read every emotion carried from her face to mine.
   Her bewilderment slowly changes to a realization to what I've asked. She
   lifts her right hand to cover her mouth in shock. More tears fall.

      "You've seen my son?" she cries.

      "Yes. We met on the plains a few moons ago where he helped me to escape
   the Shew-owa warriors who captured me. Second Bird is only across the
   river, mother. I can bring him back for you to see him."

      The soaring emotions radiating from my mother's face turn to sadness.
   She slowly shakes her head with her eyes falling to the dirt between us.
   "What's wrong?" I ask.

      "I gave up my second son long ago..." she explains. "He wouldn't
   remember me and not want to see me."

      "That's not so, mother! Second Bird knows the truth of his birth. Father
   visited with him often when carrying words between the chief of our People
   and the Split Muddy River Tribe. Though our father is gone, my brother and
   I have taken up his task to rejoin our Peoples into one great tribe again."

      My mother's teary eyes lift up to read the truth burning in my eyes. I
   nod my head to assure her of all that I've said. She closes her eyes and
   nods. I get up from the tipi floor and leave in a rush to bring back her
   son. The familiar faces of my People are smiling in my direction when I
   pass them by. It's so good to be back home!

      "Eh, wait a moment Willow Bird!" an old woman calls out.

      I stop in my tracks and turn to face Hands Weaving, a grandmother figure
   who requires my respect. She is Broad Shoulder's mother, himself an aged
   warrior of our tribe. That makes this woman ancient in my eyes!

      "Is it true that you've been across the river?" she asks.

      "Yes. But I was with fever when their warriors returned me to my
   shaman's care," I explain.

      "I would like to go across. Visit with my daughter, Glinting Riverstone
   and my son-in-law to see how many grandchildren that I have."

      I slowly nod my head at her wishes, wondering why she hasn't. I'm sure
   there's a warrior or brave who'd be willing to canoe her over for a visit
   and I point this out to her. Hands Weaving walks away with a soft clucking
   of her tongue. She seems disappointed with me. I hurry on towards the river.

      On its bank are a line of armed warriors from my tribe. I count three
   men holding feathered spears as they face the river. Iron Bow is among
   them. I walk up to him with a puzzled face.

      "It's good to see that you've recovered from your wounds," he says.
   "And that you've found our new encampment."

      "Not an easy thing," I admit. "Tell me. Why is the bank guarded?" The
   warrior points his spear across the river - a gesture against the Split
   Muddy River Tribe on the far bank.

      "None of their People may enter our tribe," he explains.

      "Why is that?" The warrior gives me a stern look as if I've asked a
   stupid question. "They were once a part of the Kalinlepi," I venture.

      "That is so. And the reason why we guard against revenge! Do you not
   remember why our People were split apart?" he asks.

      I nod my head to the man's question. Everyone knows about the blood that
   was spilled between our own warriors and how the People were split into two
   tribes and moved to prevent the cycle of murder and revenge from continuing.

      "That was in the time of my grandfathers," I suggest. "Time enough for
   the bad blood between us to have cooled and be forgotten."

      "Not forgotten," says Iron Bow. "There were sons mourning their loss
   from that time who are now warriors and they remember their murdered
   fathers. Revenge is a real threat."

      "That may be so," I concede to Iron Bow, "but we should direct our anger
   at the Spear-bearing Warriors. They plan to make a big war against us." The
   man is startled by my words.

      "How did you learn that?" he asks. "Ah... It's been said that you were
   captured by a tribe akin to our enemies. You've heard their boast to wipe
   us out?"

      "No. A shaman has come from the Spear-bearing Tribe to warn us."

      "You know about Snarling Bear, too?" the warrior asks.

      I slowly nod my head and grin. I suspect that even Iron Bow doesn't
   know the full purpose behind that shaman's visit with our tribe. The man
   seems subdued that I know so much. I stretch my arms while facing the
   muddy river. My mother comes to mind. She is waiting to see her son.

      When I stride down the bank and into the cold water, the warrior shouts
   behind me. My eyes are kept ahead. I continue to walk through the shallows
   while ignoring the pleas of my tribesmen to return.

      It's a struggle against the slow current to keep my footing. The river
   isn't deep though. Its water reaches only to my thighs. There are also the
   occasional sandbars for me to rest on. I near the far bank and fill with
   dread when seeing their own line of armed warriors. How will I make my way
   past them?

      A young man comes forward to challenge me. He's a single feathered
   warrior grasping a long spear. Not menacingly. I come to stand before him
   with open hands; my gesture for peace.

      "Return to your side of the river," he commands.

      "I've come to visit with... Stands Tall and his son." The young man
   gives me a second look. He notices my burned hair and the scabs covering
   my legs.

      "Were you the boy who rescued Running Wolf from the burning plains?"
   asks the warrior.

      "Yes. I want to see if Stands Tall's son is well... and still speaking."
   The young warrior lowers his eyes.

      "Running Wolf has fallen back into silence. It's been said that a boy
   from our Split People could get him to talk. Was that you?"

      "I am Willow Bird." A man comes up to join the warrior confronting me.
   It's Brings Word! Yet he reveals no recognition on his face for me. I'm
   given a stern inspection by the young brave.

      "Brings Word, do you not remember me?" I plead. He only nods his head in
   reply. There's fear in his eyes!

      "Our chiefs have commanded that no one from the Kalinlepi may enter,"
   explains the feathered warrior. Brings Word nods in silent agreement.

      I face the two men with crossed arms. "It is sad when a friendly visit
   is denied," I announce with a loud steady voice. "There are grandparents,
   daughters and sons with grandchildren from our two Peoples longing to be
   acquainted."

      "That may be so," answers Brings Word. "But until we assured that the
   past madness not return, our two Peoples must apart be kept."

      I peer into the brave's dark eyes, realizing that something more is
   troubling him than what his words have explained. Something about me! I
   face the feathered warrior with my right hand lifted in peaceful farewell.
   I turn from the two men and reenter the river.

      My thoughts are in turmoil. How am I going to bring back my mother's
   second son for a visit? I can't even ask the guards since it's a secret!
   And why does Brings Word fear me? He didn't reveal any anger that would
   indicate him knowing of my sexual involvement with Stands Tall's son. No.
   Something more is going on that I'm unaware of.

      I reach the other side of the river before realizing it. Only the
   chilling ache from my legs attest to my journey. Iron Bow grabs my arm. His
   smoldering eyes scold me for what I've attempted.

      "I owe you three fat rabbits," I whisper to the warrior in remembrance.
   He had agreed to keep silent about finding Song Bird embracing me naked and
   wet on Pai-alucia when we tried hiding in the woods from the hunting party.

      "That is so, Willow Bird. Go!"

      The warrior releases his tight hold of my arm. My body is feeling weary.
   I hear a loud buzzing in my ears so I make my way back to my mother's tipi.
   My swirling thoughts are forced from my head. I can't solve every problem
   in a day... I'm feeling very tired for some reason. My mother's tipi comes
   into sight. I eagerly pull on its door flap and enter with my body falling
   to the dirt.

      "It's as I thought, Willow Bird."

      I turn onto my side to face my mother. "No. Your son would have come!
   I couldn't reach him because of the Split Tribe's warriors guarding their
   side of the river."

      "That's what I meant," she whispers. "Go to sleep, my son. Perhaps the
   next day will shine brighter for our two Peoples."

      My weary body falls back to the dirt. I stare up through our tipi's
   smoke hole for a while since I'm unable to chase my troubling thoughts
   away. Only when the daylight fades am I able to find sleep.

      I've become a scared little bird perched in a weeping tree. Dark storm
   clouds are above - too dangerous for flight! A beam from Father Sun's Hand
   breaks through the darkness to reveal a pale finger wiggling up from our
   Mother. His Light encircles the lost boy. Oh, joy!

      Yet there's a shadow following his every footstep. The boy is unaware of
   the danger behind him and he's overcome. His pale half moons are covered in
   darkness to bind their lust. In return, the youth's silvery gift is stolen.
   Its Light is twisted into the evil purpose of casting shadows over all who
   would find him. I try anyway.

      With the help of Grandfather Moon's night torch, I track the shadows
   until finding a youth hiding beneath a stone. He bares his teeth at me.
   Hisses! With a raising of his arm, the evil youth blots out the moon. I
   cry out in anguish for having failed my master.


      "Come out of it!" the shaman shouts.

      I'm sitting over the cool dirt with shadows all around. The old man's
   arms are tight around my chest and back. His warmth makes me feel safe.
   When I look up, the silvery glow of Grandfather Moon comes down from the
   tipi's smoke hole. I'm relieved to be bathed in His Light.

      "I Saw the moon being overcome," I explain.

      "Another vision, Willow Bird?"

      I hear a woman's gasp in the darkness. For some reason, it makes me feel
   uncomfortable that my mother has learned this thing about me. The shaman's
   arms feel over my body for injuries and his cool palm is pressed against
   my forehead.

      "No fever," he announces. "In the morning, come to my lodge to tell me
   what you've Seen."

      "I will, shaman." After the man grips my shoulder in fond farewell, he
   gets up from my side and leaves our tipi. I hear my mother laying down over
   her mat. In silence. I'm glad that she doesn't ask me about it. I look up
   through the smoke hole for the silvery glow of Grandfather Moon. His
   goodness isn't being obscured by the clouds. There are no shadows being
   cast over the land so what was my dream showing me? Who was that boy?

      I remind myself that visions are not exactly as they seem. The images
   often represent other things. What I must do is interpret what our Father
   has shown me by using my heart for feeling them and use my head with its
   wisdom to gather up the meaning. Not an easy task! I release a weary sigh
   and try going back to sleep. The shaman can help me with it in the morning.

      My bladder pains me. I crawl from my warm spot in the dirt and stand
   outside the rear of my mother's tipi to piss. I'm feeling too sleepy for a
   trot in the woods. I sigh with relief when it's done. When turning for the
   doorway, I feel someone at my side. My eyes try finding him - a boy? There
   are only shadows all around. Grandfather Moon has already gone down to
   sleep so I'm unable to see who passed by me. A chill runs down my spine. I
   felt that my butt had been touched.

      My hand reaches back for the deerskin flap covering me there: a smallish
   cloth over my rear end reminding me that it had come from a boy sized butt -
   Crying Loon's. He's had to go without. A chuckle of amusement comes from my
   lips when thinking of that half-naked boy's plight. I wonder if he's drawn
   a warrior's lusty attention to himself yet?

      I enter my mother's tipi and lay down. Tomorrow will likely be a busy
   day for me so I'll need my sleep. My body relaxes. I close my eyes...


      I'm awakened by a hand on my shoulder. I open my eyes to find Song Bird
   hunched over me. A quick look reveals that my mother has gone to perform
   her morning chores. My half-brother's pale shadow is also missing. We're
   alone in the tipi.

      "Eager to speak with me?" I ask with a laugh.

      "Yes. Tell me everything that's happened to you!"

      I slowly sit up while looking for water to drink. My mouth is too
   parched for talking. Song Bird helps me locate the skin and I eagerly drink
   from it as he waits. A question comes to mind.

      "Why doesn't Yellow Hair wear his silver ring?"

      "It's been lost," answers Song Bird with downcast eyes.

      I'm struck by my half-brother's words. Not the complete truth! Yet I
   don't press him about it since he prefers to tell me things in his own
   time. The boy brings his hands down to rest over my thigh. His warm touch
   sends a pleasing tingle into my loins.

      "You go first," I ask. "Tell me how our tribe ended up here."

      Song Bird begins. "After you left with Tree Snake for the sacred cliffs,
   your lover ran through camp like a wild man. His loud shouts aroused the
   warriors who chased him down. He ended up at your mother's tipi, clawing
   through it like an angry bear to find you. Our men grabbed him. He died..."

      I reach for my half-brother's slim shoulder and grip it. "The shaman has
   already told me this. Tell me what happened with our tribe after he was
   laid to rest over his sky platform."

      "Many of our People wanted to move," explains Song Bird. "They feared
   there was an evil spirit in the area who would smite others from his anger.
   The shaman agreed. He set up distracting fires and made offerings to the
   Trickster while our tipis were readied for traveling. We crossed the river
   to prevent Him from following."

      "Ah. That explains why I saw your tracks leading towards the buffalo
   plains. Yet our People recrossed the river later to end up here."

      "Yes, that's so. The shaman performed rituals along the way to block
   that evil spirit from following us. Few can cross over water but our shaman
   wanted to ensure our complete escape. Our path was a twisting one with much
   backtracking and circles. Eventually, we headed towards the setting sun.
   The falling branch of the river was crossed and we found our Split Tribe."

      "How did they greet your arrival?" I ask.

      "Not very well," says Song Bird. "Before they could deny us, our weary
   People set up their tipis on the opposite branched side of the river. The
   Split Tribe has been objecting to our settling here ever since."

      "I'll try to change that." Song Bird reveals his puzzlement at my words.
   I don't try to explain them. With a fond grip of the boy's shoulder, I coax
   his timid eyes to mine. Only briefly. His eyes fall back down to my feet. I
   release a trembling sigh, noticing again how my friends hands are resting
   over my thigh. A sensual touch.

      My eyes look over this boy who was my first love. He has beautiful brown
   eyes and a smallish nose. His crop of black hair is kept in place by a
   white head cloth. It's not from any animal hide, this soft cloth was gifted
   him by a Wah-ha (white man) trader who visited our tribe a few years ago.
   My gaze drops down his slim body: thin arms and no muscular development in
   his chest, almost as if he were a girl. Being a chief's son has given him a
   soft well-fed body since he doesn't have to work as hard as the other boys.
   He has two mothers to perform chores.

       My eyes fall down the boy's chest with a deep hunger for what hides
   beneath his front flap. His body was mine to take only a few moons ago.
   Small and undeveloped; a younger male with whom I joined my larger body for
   sexual bliss and heartfelt love. I have only to reach out to reclaim what
   was mine... I shake my head to cast away that lustful thought. He has
   Yellow Hair for that. I doubt that my half brother lusts for me anymore.

      I look deep into Song Bird's brown eyes to find out. From their longing,
   I can tell that he's missed me. I have really missed him! How it aches my
   heart not to be allowed our boyhood love to express itself. No more sweet
   embraces between us...

      The boy pants at my side. His eyes are filling with a hunger that I
   recognize. Sadly, it should be denied. I try to turn away but am unable to
   since I'm feeling the same sharp hunger; that need! We continue to face
   each other and stare.

      I manage to drop my eyes from his. Song Bird reveals a healthy bulge
   within his breechclout. His eyes are drawn to my front flap being pushed
   from my belly. That simple touch from his hands has caused our excitement.
   I make a painful gesture for the boy to move away from me.

      Song Bird does, reluctantly. His left hand reaches under his front flap
   with an obvious grasping of his erection. I try averting my eyes from his
   boy rite and wonder why he's teasing me.

      Tension builds up between us. Song Bird knows of the restrictions placed
   upon us by his father. No longer may we touch in Mahyee-na. Big Horn had
   relayed the chief's command to me that his son must be allowed his own path
   towards manhood without my interference. It's his father's hope that the
   boy will become a true man, marry and have children.

      Oh, how I long for this youth! He was my very first love that had grown
   from our long friendship as boys. I embraced him for male satisfaction but
   too, our hearts became one. My silver ring went to him as my pledge of
   everlasting love. It was passed onto Yellow Hair to bind the two boys
   closer than foster brothers. For love themselves...

      "Where is your white brother?" I ask with a trembling voice.

      Song Bird sighs. "Somewhere about. Something has changed between us,
   Willow Bird..."

      I look into the boy's sad-looking eyes and read him. Such pain! Perhaps
   that explains the loss of Yellow Hair's ring.

      'You also in need,' gestures Song Bird with the stiff finger sign
   pointing at his companion's front flap.

      I watch the boy's slow paced masturbation within his breechclout. Mine
   is pushed up like a tipi. With a low sigh, I reach in for my hard dick and
   begin pulling over its thick skin. I understand what my friend is asking of
   me. We may not touch but this thing we can share in.

      I'm surprised to see Song Bird looking into my eyes. He's usually shy
   when performing, unable to talk about it or to acknowledge sex. I pour my
   love out to the boy with my eyes. He drinks it in. Our simple rite is
   thrilling to my loins but I'm feeling a terrible aching from my heart!
   We're prevented from doing more with each other.

      There's a scuffling sound coming from the front of Song Bird. I won't
   break eye connect with him to look down at what I suspect he's showing me.
   He makes a nod with his head for me to do the same. I reluctantly pull away
   my front flap. Our eyes fall down to each other's action.

      Song Bird tightly clutches the foreskin of his pole. His fingers move to
   pop his brown glans in and out. A dry handling. I'm in awe of his skinny
   erection being coaxed against his groin and know that it can squirt out a
   clear seed. The boy looks down at my moving hand. I'm pulling over my
   dick's thick skin that pops my sticky knob in and out. My piss hole is
   oozing a lot.

      "Give me some?" the boy pleads.

      I finger over the end of my dick to gather its wetness. Song Bird holds
   out his left hand to me. Our fingers touch. The boy brings down my manly
   oozing to coat the end of his dick. With each of the boy's pulling, his
   knob pops out with a sucking sound.

      I'm thrilled to see what had come from my dick being used to aid the
   boy's handling. He beats off with growing pleasure revealed in his
   narrowing eyes. A few breaths are held. Song Bird's belly trembles when he
   tries holding one for too long.

      My left hand is getting slippery. I notice that Song Bird's hand is
   bringing a red color to his pole. He could use some more of my dick's
   lubrication. I don't dare touch the boy though. I'm barely preventing
   myself from pouncing over his small naked body.

      I get to my knees and face Song Bird over the dirt. Our legs whisper
   together. I feel the heat from his body that tries drawing me into an
   embrace... We cannot! I take out my frustration by beating my dick hard.
   The boy matches my angry pace with his hand tight around his erection.

      Our eyes find each other. I see desire in him that may only be for sex.
   No. He loves me dearly and I love him! Our bodies are struggling to fulfill
   that promise, for love. The boy rises on his knees until our bellies are
   nearly touching. I smell his exertion. Sweat beads on his chest that runs
   down his tummy to his handling. He is trying his best to be with me without
   violating his father's commandment.

      Song Bird's dry hand is chafing his pole. I aim the tip of my wet dick
   against the boy's. His fingers draw more of my sexual oozing to make his
   handling slippery. Relief fills his eyes. It pleases me that something from
   my maturity can help the boy. Our naked bodies are struggling towards a
   sweet male release.

      Our eyes come to each other again. I see such longing in my half brother
   for me. He's in need. Not only for sex but to express his love for me. I
   have that same aching in my heart and from my body. It weakens my resolve.
   I lean closer to the boy with my offer to belly rub with him. Song Bird
   reveals his own desire to embrace me but he's undecided. Lust encourages me
   to try something more. I reach my hand out to hold the rear of his
   breechclout. Through his flap, I feel the boy's surging cheeks from what
   he's performing in the front of him. We stare down at our frantic need.

      When our hands bang together, he can contain himself no longer. Song Bird
   extends his fingers to wrap around my hard dick. Our bellies touch. I close
   my eyes as if in denial. The boy's hand rubs our throbbing lengths together
   in male embracement. I dare to reach under his rear flap. Ah. His wiggly
   butt is soft against my palm like I remember how it felt in my naked
   embrace when we stood in the muddy river. This boy was mine not so long
   ago. I held his smaller body in my arms. Our bellies rubbed to sweeten the
   thrills coming from our hard dicks pressed between us. I brought my face
   down to his to give my boy a kiss...

      I hear Song Bird's outcry. My daydreaming ends when I open my eyes in
   the tipi. My young friend is pumping our dicks towards a wet climax. He
   squirts! My cupped hand fills with the boy's love that also fills from my
   shooting dick. I release a low moan after it's done.

      Our breaths sound loud in the tipi. My filled left hand clenches with
   regret from what we've done. Song Bird's eyes open to peer shyly into
   mine. I slowly nod in understanding. We've kept from embracing each other
   in sex but not even the chief's command could prevent our love for each
   other. We are half brothers, and more.

      I peer back into Song Bird's brown eyes. His earlier boldness has been
   replaced with a timid expression. The boy lowers his eyes from me as if
   shamed. This is what I expect from the youth: his shyness. Only his need
   for sex had made him feeling strong.

      "Did you notice..." gasps Song Bird. "I have a few hairs down there."

      I look down at the boy's groin. Yes. There are three black hairs growing
   above his dick - a sure sign of his maturing body. I raise my left hand
   between us and open my fingers. My palm is covered with thick white cum.
   Running over my seed is a pool of the boy's clear release.

      "I don't shoot out strongly yet," admits Song Bird.

      "But you are growing hair on your groin." The boy smiles at my words of
   encouragement. He lifts his left hand from around his spent pole to clasp
   my hand. Firmly. Between our palms is our mingling cum. We shake hands as
   best friends again.

      When my hand opens, Song Bird's fingers pull our seed into his palm and
   he brings it down to his loins. I watch the boy cover his balls in solemn
   ritual. Words spring from my mouth. "From a proven man's loins comes
   strength to the boy. It makes us one."

      Song Bird lifts his shy eyes to mine. He's been given my 'growing up'
   ritual before. Yet this moment together is like our first time. Strong
   feelings of love for each other! I don't have to utter the words. This boy
   knows what's in my heart that is also reflected in his.

      I release a weary sigh. The sweet odor of male release is taken in with
   my breath. Song Bird smells it too. He fearfully glances at the doorway
   when realizing that my mother could have returned to catch us in the act.

      We don our front flaps in silence. I press the palm of my left hand over
   my heart in a gesture to what I'm feeling. Song Bird lifts his wet hand and
   covers his heart. Our eyes meet briefly.

      "Tell me about Yellow Hair," I gently ask. "What's wrong?"

      Song Bird releases a troubled breath. "I'm not sure," he begins. "We
   were very happy together. I taught him how to talk with his hands and he
   knows many words to speak. He's a quick learner. And we've tried love. Not
   as you've shown me with sticking into a butt. He likes to belly rub mostly,
   we pull over each other's poles... Simple stuff like that. I know that he
   cares for me more than a brother should."

      "When did that change?"

      "A few days ago. I saw Yellow Hair leaving the tipi at night to go piss
   or something. Tash-o-gwa followed after him. I wasn't concerned so I went
   back to sleep. They woke me up when Yellow Hair stumbled over my legs,
   Tash-o-gwa half carrying him back to his sleeping mat. It seemed that my
   brother had gotten himself hurt."

      "Who is Tash-o-gwa?"

      "That's Snarling Bear's young companion. They're staying in my father's
   tipi until they can make a tipi of their own."

      "It's been decided that they can stay with our tribe?" I ask.

      "Yes. Snarling Bear is my father's brother-in-law and he has promised to
   tell us what we can expect from the Spear-bearing Warriors when they
   attack."

      I nod my head with agreement. It may be a good decision to harbor the
   enemy warrior as he's asked. "Was it a good reunion between Snarling Bear's
   mother and her daughter?"

      "Oh, yes. Lots of crying and stuff. I've never seen Dew-on-the-petals so
   happy. She's glad that her mother can stay."

      Anger fills me. I'm reminded that my mother is being prevented from
   seeing her second born son. I show pain in my eyes when facing Song Bird.
   "It saddens me that our tribe can accept bitter enemies yet shun kinsmen
   who share our blood."

      Song Bird nods. "My father wants a joining of our tribes but he thinks
   that the chiefs from the Split Tribe are afraid."

      "Afraid that the warriors from our two Peoples will seek revenge upon
   another?"

      "Yes. They may fear a return to the madness from that time of our
   grandfathers. Some of our warriors agreed and they guard the river bank."

      "I saw them." Song Bird remains silent as if stung. My thoughts turn
   deep with my eyes lowering from the boy's. What can be done to end this
   standoff between our two Peoples? I had managed to get past Iron Bow to
   enter the shallow river. There were sandbars where people can stand... A
   plan starts forming in my head. But how to draw out those of the Split
   Tribe who'd want a happy reunion with members of our tribe?

      I'm taken from my deep thoughts by a hand on my shoulder. I look up at
   my half brother with hope showing in my eyes. He's the chief's son. This
   could give me access to the leadership of our People to try changing things!

      "You are often within yourself, Willow Bird."

      "Yes. Becoming a man changes things," I explain. "No longer can I think
   of only myself. I have my mother to care for and when becoming shaman, I'll
   shoulder the burden of my People's welfare."

      "We may not be able to wait that long..." whispers Song Bird.

      I stare at the boy's face to read his intent. Does he share my concern
   for getting our two tribes back together? I remember something important
   that I need to tell Song Bird. He can be trusted with keeping it secret so
   I clear my throat to signal my readiness to say something Big.

      "I met a young brave on the plains who helped rescue me from Shew-owa
   warriors who are kin to the Spear-bearing People. His name is Second Bird."
   I flare my eyes when uttering the brave's name.

      "Second Bird?" asks Song Bird. "Which tribe is he from?"

      "The People from across the river. He's only a year younger than myself."
   I continue to flare my eyes in a gesture for the boy to read past my words.
   He realizes the importance of what I've said but not to its meaning. I
   reach for my half brother's right hand and clasp it.

      "This brave was the second born to my mother and our father."

      "He's your... brother?!" gasps Song Bird.

      I nod my head with joy. "Few people know about it. My father took his
   newly born son to the Split Muddy River People and made him a peace
   offering to the chief's sister who needed a baby. He was in secret
   negotiations to bring their People back to the Kalinlepi. Second Bird was
   raised knowing who his real mother and father were but it was kept secret
   in their tribe."

      "Why was that?" the boy asks.

      "The chief's sister and her husband couldn't make a baby of their own
   much to their shame. My father believed that he could help his cause by
   giving them his own son. But when he was taken away by the Spear-bearing
   Warriors, that cause died with him. I remain with the Kalinlepi, separated
   from my brother who has returned to the Split Muddy River Tribe."

      "Returned?" asks Song Bird. "From where?"

      "Second Bird was captured by the Shew-owa when he was eleven. The boy
   was raised by their People and even named a brave of their tribe. When I
   was taken prisoner, Second Bird saw how alike we were. He knew that we had
   to be brothers and helped me to escape."

      "Does Second Bird know about me?"

      "No. I honor my sworn oaths, Song Bird. It seems that the chief of our
   tribe has secrets to keep as well."

      "A lot has happened to you since you've been gone," says Song Bird.
   "Tell me all about your adventures!"

      I clasp my half brother's hand and begin my account back at the cliffs
   where I fasted to find my animal helper. Very little is held back from him.
   The boy is told about Tree Snake's murder and my sad discovery of Big Horn's
   raised platform when returning to the empty grounds of my tribe. The search
   for my People had begun a dangerous yet exciting adventure for me. Song Bird
   is held captive by my story's twists and turns. The telling is a long one
   since so much has happened to me. I see the growing amazement in the boy's
   widening eyes.

      "You've returned as a warrior!" says Song Bird with pride.

      "Yes. But I won't count coup before the other men of my tribe. I'll
   remain as Willow Bird."

      "I don't understand. Why not claim this honor for yourself?!"

      My eyes look deep into Song Bird's. "I am given visions from our Father.
   There are strong forces surrounding me and in me that guide my steps. I'll
   become a shaman of peace and healing. Warring is not my path..."

      "Our shaman was a warrior first," says Song Bird.

      "Yes. But he turned away from that so he could guide our People. I will
   follow in his footsteps with his help, and that of Snarling Bear's."

      "Is that why he's come to stay with our People?"

      I nod my head. "That man is a shaman who has turned from his own People
   because they want war with ours."

      "He helped heal the bear's claw wounds over my butt," says Song Bird.
   "I felt his Power but I fear him."

      "So do I."

      We're startled by a calling outside the tipi. Song Bird glances down at
   himself to be assured that his body is covered and that there's no sign of
   what we've done together.

      "My father is calling for you!" the boy shouts. He gets up from the dirt
   and opens the doorway for him.

      "Ask Willow Bird to come out," says Chief He-who-walks-beyond-all-others.

      I get up in a rush to answer my chief's command. Song Bird is at my side
   when we face two old men. I nod with respect to my chief. At his side is
   Snarling Bear. His dark eyes try connecting with mine. I avoid his gaze.

      "Ah, Willow Bird. Will you accompany us across the river when we go to
   speak with the chiefs of our Split People? Snarling Bear says that your
   presence is important. Our shaman agrees."

      "I will go with you." Song Bird fidgets at my side as if wanting to come
   along. His father's eyes bore into me in want of an explanation. I'm unable
   to give him one.

      "Very well. You are part of my honor guard when we venture into their
   camp. Oaken Strength and Iron Bow will also accompany us."

      I make a gesture with my open hands to show my chief how I'm unarmed.
   Chief He-who-walks-beyond-all-others draws a flint blade from under his
   robe but is stopped from presenting it to me by a sharp gesture from
   Snarling Bear. I watch their signing with much interest.

      'He may have need of it," signs the chief.

      'Let them think him only a boy,' explains Snarling Bear. 'The greater
   power comes from within this one as I've Seen. Forgive my intrusion."

      The old chief turns to stare at me. He knows what I've been doing with
   his son in love and that has left him feeling bitter towards me. Now, I see
   something new in his eyes for me: a reassessment. I lift my shoulders with
   pride. My eyes endure his hard gaze. When I left my tribe a few moons ago,
   I was only a boy. I have returned as a man like a great storm coming.

      "Come with us, Willow Bird."

      I follow behind my chief with honor. Snarling Bear walks at the man's
   side with silent hands. Song Bird walks with me. I give my half brother a
   gesture to keep a distance. It wouldn't go well for us if his father were
   to suspect that we're not obeying his commandment.

      The People of our tribe wave at us. It is a proud moment for me, almost
   like I'm being accepted as a man. I've not been given a formal rite of
   passage because mid-summer has long passed. My monedo who was to initiate
   me a brave is gone. Ghostly words echo within my head: 'All the greatness
   that you are to become is already within you...'

      I gasp when feeling the backwards glance from Snarling Bear upon me.
   There is a connection between us; a frightening one! I return his stare.
   Warriors guarding the bank let go loud yelps of respect to our chief when
   he approaches. Two from their number come to us.

      "We are making a friendly visit with their chiefs," says the old man.
   "Do nothing to shame my intent for peace."

      Iron Bow nods his head with understanding. There's a reluctance in Oaken
   Strength but he also nods. The two warriors get on either side of our party.
   Chief He-who-walks-beyond-all-others strides down the bank and enters the
   river with Snarling Bear behind him. I am last. It's a wonderful display of
   armed strength, honor feathers and purpose. I don't even notice the cold.

      When we reach to the other side, we're met by an honor guard. My chief
   returns their greeting with much ceremony. Snarling Bear is covering his
   feet with moccasins after our crossing so he doesn't notice the hatred
   showing in many of the warriors' eyes for him.

      I see Stands Tall and give him my hand wave. His eyes reveal surprise at
   my presence but he nods back. Our party is taken through the tipi camp of
   the Split Muddy River People. Our passage is viewed by many. The old women
   smile and wave at us. There's curiosity coming from the children. Only from
   the men do I see frowns or obvious fear and suspicions. Their hostility
   could be directed at Snarling Bear though.

      We are taken to four joined tipis, almost a lodge by the height of their
   poles and significant painted glyphs. I can't fathom their meaning. The
   doorway is opened to us by a well-dressed boy of eleven years. He wears
   fancy breeches, leggings and a painted shirt. This youth gestures for us to
   enter while Oaken Strength and Iron Bow take up guarding positions outside.
   Snarling Bear grasps my arm to bring me inside.

      There's a large space within. My eyes have much to take in when I follow
   their rising walls to several smoke holes above. A large fire centers the
   dwelling. Many feathered warriors are seated around it and look up at us.
   My chief slowly drops to an empty mat. Snarling Bear is offered a place
   slightly behind him over the dirt. I kneel meekly at the shaman's side.

      I'm feeling very small. There's tension building from our arrival that
   is answered with only silence. The fire pops and crackles; I try avoiding
   its dancing flames for fear of going into a trance - not here! My eyes
   follow an object that's being passed by many hands around the fire pit that
   becomes a ceremonial pipe offered to my chief. He draws a few long puffs.
   Snarling Bear takes his turn smoking. He hands the pipe to a five feathered
   warrior without my consideration.

      "It's said you bring important news for our ears," speaks an old man.

      "That is so," answers Chief He-who-walks-beyond-all-others. "You've not
   taken my earlier words to heart so hear them directly from a warrior of our
   shared enemy, the Spear-bearing People! This is shaman Snarling Bear. He
   has asked to remain with the Kalinlepi because his heart is against the
   coming war."

      I'm surprised by the strong words coming from the chiefs! There were no
   opening pleasantries that even enemies share when opening a council.

      "How can you trust this man?" a warrior asks. "By declaring himself
   opposed to his People, he is a traitor and his actions are held suspect!"

      There's a loud murmur of agreement amongst many of the men. A few hiss
   in Snarling Bear's direction. When I look at the shaman, he gives me
   smiling eyes. It's as if he was prepared for the hostility and suspicion
   being shown him. My hands sign to him what's being said.

      "Almost three moons ago, this lone warrior of our enemy came to my tribe
   with the intent of trading a white boy for me to have as a son. My second
   wife was traded to me in a similar manner by warriors from the Moss-bowl
   Tribe who came to renew ties of peace between our two Peoples. Imagine our
   surprise when we learned that Dew-on-the-petals, my young wife was Snarling
   Bear's sister! A hope for peace was begun for our Peoples. He promised to
   come back with his mother for a happy reunion."

      "He has come as a spy!" a warrior shouts.

      "That is so," answers Chief He-who-walks-beyond-all-others with a sigh.
   "Snarling Bear has told me this himself."

      "I do not understand," asks one of the Split Muddy River Chiefs. "Why
   have you brought him. Does he have something to tell us from his People?"

      I'm quick to sign what's being said to Snarling Bear. He rises to his
   knees as if to address the council. A gesture is given to my chief first.

      "He asks that his words be translated into ours," says the Kalinlepi
   Chief. "He asks that Second Bird be brought here to do this thing."

      The tiny hairs raise at the back of my neck. I feel maneuvering taking
   place here! The clothed boy runs past us and out the doorway. Snarling Bear
   stands up to offer his respect to the men of the Split Muddy River Tribe
   while asking for their patience.

      Snarling Bear gestures for me to stand with him. I do so while feeling
   very awkward when the eyes of so many men are looking up at me. The shaman
   indicates that he wants me to utter his signed words out loud. I look at my
   chief to receive his approval. It's given. I'm asked to introduce myself to
   the council first. A nervous swallow is made before I speak.

      "I am Willow Bird of the Kalinlepi," I begin. My thoughts race with what
   more to say! I remember my encounter with Split Muddy River Tribe warriors.
   "Some of your men already know of me from Stands Tall's war party that had
   gone looking for his son. We rescued Running Wolf from the burning plains
   and was returning the boy to his father. I'm happy for their reunion.

      "I am saddened that one of your warriors died at my side when we faced
   a pack of wolves. We fought them together. I barely survived..."

      "We have heard this from Stands Tall," says one of the chiefs.

      Snarling Bear asks that I sign to him what I've spoken. My hands fly
   with gestures that try shaping my words of introduction. He seems pleased.
   I feel the eyes of many men on me that makes me feel that I should speak
   further. I boldly do so.

      "My father had come to your People long ago with words of peace from my
   chief. It was his hope to reunite our Split Tribe..."

      There's an uproar in the council. Some of the warriors shout out in
   anger against what I've said. When I look to my chief, he doesn't seem
   displeased. Snarling Bear tries hiding his smile. After a while, the men
   quiet down. I'm asked to continue speaking by an old man around the fire
   who I believe is the Chief of chiefs of the Split Muddy River Tribe.

      My hands tremble with fear so I reach out for the fire's warmth. I'm
   making a small delay to calm myself and to order my thoughts to what I'll
   be saying next. My tense arms are brought back to my sides. My legs are
   shaking. It causes the rear of my breechclout to dance against my butt,
   reminding me that Crying Loon's flap is covering my body before these
   important men. They are waiting for me. I wet my lips and speak.

      "I've heard that some of the warriors on both sides of our river are
   afraid of a tribal reunion. Fearful of the madness that took place in the
   time of my grandfathers. So long ago! Mothers from that time like Hands
   Weaving of the Kalinlepi have become grandmothers who yearn to see how many
   grandchildren that they have. Her daughter, Glinting Riverstone lives with
   her husband in your tribe. Would they not seek a happy reunion between
   their family kept so long apart?"

      "You are only a boy," a warrior answers. "These matters are not as
   simple to resolve as you think. Proven men don't fear for no good reason.
   Guarding against revenge is cause enough to keep our tribes separated."

      "Why does the Chief of the Kalinlepi allow a boy to speak for him?" asks
   another warrior.

      I defer to my chief. The old man lifts his proud head adorned with many
   feathers of the eagle to face their challenge, pointing at me when he
   speaks.

      "Willow Bird carries hope in his heart that his father's task will
   finally succeed. He is of the younger generation that didn't partake of the
   madness you fear. Do your youth hate their Kalinlepi brothers? I think not.
   If our men can bury the hatchet of fear between us, a new beginning can be
   made to ensure the survival of our children. The Spear-bearing Warriors are
   coming. Let us stand together to face them!"

      My chief's words are noble and well spoken. Yet they're taken as a
   challenge by the Split Tribe warriors who shout back at us. I stand and
   endure it. The men argue amongst themselves, saying that revenge is a real
   concern - a return to the madness while others answer that it can be buried.
   I hear a warrior claim that we of the Kalinlepi are weak and that's why
   we've come begging for peace and protection with their tribe. I lower my
   head with sadness. Why aren't they considering the good a reunion would
   bring us?

      The council hushes when a young man enters from the doorway. My eyes
   can't make him out since he's shrouded in sunlight. A woman is at his side.
   My heart leaps into my throat when I see that it's Second Bird! The brave
   walks up to me and hugs me.

      "It's time to announce our relationship," the brave whispers.

      I turn from Second Bird to face the council with my right arm around the
   brave. An old woman is standing behind us. Could she be his foster mother?

      "I am Second Bird of the Split Tribe," the brave announces with pride.
   "I'm standing here with my brother to show you that peace can be made
   between our two Peoples."

      "He is actually your brother?" a warrior asks. "How can this be?"

      The old woman comes forward. She kneels down first to ask for her
   chief's permission to speak. It is given. Second Bird squeezes my hand as
   if he already knows what she's going to say.

      "It is true," admits the woman. "Willow Bird's father handed over his
   second son so that my husband and I could have a child to raise. A few of
   you in the council knew of this." Her eyes fall to her brother, the chief.

      Second Bird goes to his mother and helps her up. They hug. Loud murmurs
   erupt from the warriors but they become silent when the young brave
   indicates that he wants to continue speaking.

      "I love my mother and father who raised me and I owe allegiance to the
   People of this tribe," he announces. "My true father had told me of his
   sacred task to join our People which has passed over to me and my brother,
   Willow Bird."

      Shouts come from some of the men. Not as loud when I had first spoken of
   reunion. Snarling Bear gestures for me to sit down. I do so and watch him
   stand to take his turn addressing the council. Second Bird translates.

      "I am Snarling Bear, a shaman of my People you call the Spear-bearing
   Warriors. It is true that my chiefs plan to make war on you. Not only the
   Kalinlepi but the Split Muddy River Tribe, the Painted People and others.
   Our warriors are many. They are greedy for war and what is gained from
   that: honor for the young braves proving themselves in battle, the taking
   of your horses, to grab your women and to end all of your lives!"

      Snarling Bear is forced into silence by the loud shouts and hissing of
   many warriors. It takes much effort from the chiefs to bring peace back to
   the council. The shaman begins speaking again with Second Bird translating
   his words out loud.

      "I was asked by my chiefs to use my second visit with the Kalinlepi to
   determine their strengths. It was a thing I was opposed to since my heart
   is for peace. That's why I have come to warn you and to ask sanctuary for
   myself and my mother."

      "I have granted it," announces Chief He-who-walks-beyond-all-others.
   "Our tribe's shaman and I believe this man's intent for peace is true. You
   have his words and mine. Consider them well."

      There are loud murmurs amongst the council members. The Chief of the
   Split Muddy River Tribe slowly gets to his feet. His arms lift to show
   respect to my chief at last.

      "I thank you for bringing them. Go now, in peace, while we think over
   what should be done."

      My chief acknowledges the show of honor being given him. He slowly rises
   and turns for the doorway. Snarling Bear follows with me lingering behind.
   I grab hold of Second Bird. There's only a moment for us to talk so I blurt
   out my plan of how we could bring some of our People together for a reunion
   in the middle of the river. I also ask him to see our mother when he can.
   The brave nods with understanding and I see hope in his eyes.

      I'm struck by the bright sunlight. Oaken Strength and Iron Bow take up
   their guarding positions when we make our way back to the river. From
   behind, a man runs to catch up with us. It's not my brother as I was half
   expecting. Stands Tall addresses my chief.

      "I ask that Snarling Bear be allowed to accompany me back to my tipi.
   There's an unresolved matter between us concerning his escaped companion."

      "What is this?" the chief asks. "I've been granted safe passage for
   everyone in my party!"

      "I mean him no harm," says Stands Tall.

      The warrior turns to me for help. I address my chief. "Something bad
   happened to his son that concerns one of Snarling Bear's young companions
   who escaped. I think he wants to question the shaman about it. And, I would
   like to visit with Running Wolf to see if the boy is well."

      My chief sees the importance of Stands Tall's request upon him. And mine.
   I sign everything that's been said to Snarling Bear. He reluctantly nods
   his head in agreement.

      "Go, then. Snarling Bear is under your protection, Willow Bird!"

      I'm handed a flint blade from my chief. His eyes glare at the shaman who
   makes no objection about its presentation this time. I tuck the knife into
   my thong belt. Oaken Strength and Iron Bow escort their chief to the river
   while I remain with Snarling Bear.

      "My son misses you," says Stands Tall. "Come. I will take you back to my
   tipi where we can talk."

      I study the warrior's face but find no deception. It's not my life that
   I fear for but the Spear-bearing warrior's! We're taken quickly through
   camp. Men glance at us with ugly eyes that I try ignoring.

      "I welcome you to my tipi in peace," announces Stands Tall.

      Snarling Bear enters with me following. Stands Tall ties the door closed
   behind him. In the darkness, a shape darts into my arms. I hold the naked
   youth close to my chest and carry him down to the floor with me.

      "How have you been, Running Wolf?" I ask.

      "Missed you!"

      I hear a sigh of relief coming from Stands Tall. He prepares a pipe for
   smoking. Snarling Bear looks around the tipi but I feel his eyes coming
   back to me and the boy.

      I hold the squirming youth with much love in my heart. When looking at
   his father, I see something dark in his eyes. Has he learned about me and
   Running Wolf? No... His anger is directed at Snarling Bear. I hope the
   warrior doesn't intend any harm to him in revenge for what his young
   companion had done to his son.

      A silent smoke ritual is endured. Again, I'm not offered the pipe which
   doesn't bother me since I'm busy holding a sweet boy. Running Wolf leads my
   hand down between his legs. I feel his erection there. It's an awkward
   thing but I manage to rest my hand over the boy's pole to cover his male
   excitement from sight.

      The men sign to each other. I try following their conversation that
   concerns Snarling Bear's escaped companion. No. The shaman doesn't know why
   the boy ran away. He's not of blood relation to him though a teacher/student
   bond is offered in admission. Stands Tall becomes frustrated. He accuses
   the missing youth of having harmed his son. A sexual overtone is hinted at.
   This gives Snarling Bear some pause. When he signs again, he claims that
   the youth under his care could not be interested in boys that way.

      To my shame, I feel my dick stiffening within my front breechclout. I've
   become excited from the men's talk. Running Wolf gasps in my lap. I notice
   that my hand is masturbating the youth with a slow rubbing of his erection
   against my sweaty palm. He pants in my arms like an excited dog.

      Something odd strikes me. I feel that I'm missing something important as
   if my thoughts are covered in shadow. The men continue to talk with their
   hands about another matter. I rub over the boy's stiff pole. I'm starting
   to feel disconnected from what's going on. A kind of waking dream...

      Rain falls from the sad sky. The drenched plains uncover a large dead
   crow; a decaying body that the animals gnaw on for food. I turn the bird
   over and see that it's a boy. His hollow eyes try telling me something.

      Running Wolf cries out. I hold his throbbing erection while enduring the
   hard stares of the men. My eyes widen with a terrible realization!

      "That missing boy is not the one who harmed your son," I blurt out. "He
   lies dead on the plains... Murdered."

      Stands Tall asks, "How do you know this, Willow Bird?"

      Snarling Bear gestures for someone to sign what's been said. I find my
   hands full of boy so Stands Tall does it. The shaman stares at me with
   widening eyes.

      'You Saw this in a vision?' he asks.

      I slowly nod my head. An earlier dream returns to me about my silver
   ring being twisted to an evil purpose. I'm made to understand its images
   finally by comparing it to what Song Bird has told me about Yellow Hair
   stumbling over his legs one night. That white youth has fallen under the
   shadow's spell!

      "Willow Bird. Would you recognize this boy who raped my son?" asks
   Stands Tall.

      "No. It was dark and my limbs were too weak to prevent it," I admit with
   much shame. "I love your son. That youth used Running Wolf for his pleasure
   and to bring evil to us all!"

      I notice where Stands Tall's eyes fall on his son in my lap. My hand
   rests beside the boy's erection, bringing me embarrassment. I wrap my arms
   around Running Wolf and close my eyes. I'm awaiting the wrath of his father
   to what I've said and what he has seen me do...

      "Willow Bird is good," the boy whispers. "He showed me that mommy is
   happy in the Above."

      I open my eyes with surprise. Stands Tall is taken back by what his son
   has said. Snarling Bear turns to us for an explanation. For the moment, no
   one can give him one.

      "I suspected your involvement with my son," says Stands Tall with a
   trembling voice. "You've brought my son out of himself so I forgave any
   advantage that you've taken from him. He loves you. It's almost enough for
   me to accept what's been occurring between the two of you."

      I ignore Snarling Bear's plea to sign what's been said. I'm feeling very
   anxious and fearful for what Stands Tall intends to do about it. My eyes
   look into the warrior's for a long moment. I see something being decided.

      "Running Wolf needs to see you," he says, "and I see your love for him.
   It has brought him out. You may visit with my son but only in my presence.
   Help bring him back to me, Willow Bird."

      "I would like to try."

      "You must also help me with another matter. Find this evil youth who
   harmed my son. Bring him back to my tribe to face justice!"

      "I will do as you've asked." Snarling Bear has remained patient during
   our talk. I gesture to him that I'll give him an account of it later. The
   shaman nods his head in understanding.

      Stands Tall rises to his feet. I get up and slap over Running Wolf's
   butt to get him running back to his father. Snarling Bear joins me outside
   the tipi. We're met by Brings Bows and Elk Tail. Both grim men are armed.

      "Take them back to the river," asks Stands Tall. "Make sure no harm
   comes to Snarling Bear!"

      I feel a shiver going down my spine. These men were waiting for their
   leader's signal to do harm to the shaman or even kill him! Instead, they
   form an honor guard as we walk through camp.

      Makes Bows ignores my attempts to strike up a conversation. He acts like
   he's too concerned with keeping us from harm when we walk past the warriors
   of his tribe. Elk Tail answers my plea. I feel his discomfort to talk with
   me but a pressing question needs to be asked. "I saw Brings Word yesterday.
   He acted strangely as if he didn't know me..."

      "That brave fears you," whispers Elk Tail. He looks around as we walk
   for anyone who could be listening.

      "Fear me? Why!"

      "Ah, Brings Word says that he saw you change from a bear..."

      "What are you talking about?"

      "When you stood against the wolves," explains Elk Tail. "He was the
   first to find you on the plains and he claims that a black bear was hunched
   over our fallen companion. Protecting him. He says that the injured animal
   changed its shape back into a boy when he rode up. You, Willow Bird."

      My eyes widen in shock. Does Elk Tail really believe that? I try going
   back to that attack in my head but my memories of it are very dim. That
   explains why Brings Word was hostile to my yesterday.

      We reach the bank. I give the two men my gesture of gratitude for having
   led us safely. Makes Bows won't look at me. Elk Tail raises his hand in
   farewell but with a pained look in his eyes. The line of Split Tribe
   warriors let us pass. Snarling Bear and I make our way back across the
   river.

      A line of warriors greet our arrival with loud hooting and a raising of
   their spears. I'm too deep in my thoughts to enjoy the spectacle. A man
   escorts Snarling Bear away. I'm left alone on the bank, forgotten.

      A boy runs past me with a loud shout. He reminds me of my own task
   needing to be done this afternoon. A butt needs to get covered. I put away
   my troubling thoughts so that I can go find Crying Loon.

      Every boy catches my eye, especially those without a flap for their
   butts. Youths under the age of ten go about nude. It's thought that such
   innocent boys are uninteresting to the girls because of their immature
   bodies and lack of threat for making a baby in them. I spy on their
   nakedness with a grin. Mud Digger is a boy of six with a cute face. He
   streaks past me without realizing how I'm enjoying his carefree display by
   peeking at his small pole bouncing over his balls or lusting after his
   flexing butt cheeks. As a mature male, it's my joyous responsibility to
   bring youths along on their path towards manhood. Broken Bow from the
   Moss-bowl Tribe had given me a 'growing up' rite when I was nine. My loins
   filled from his power. I'll pass it on.

      I wave to my tribesmen when passing their tipis and they see I'm too
   anxious to stop and talk. My eyes are only for the boys. I notice that most
   youths are wearing yellow deerskin flaps on both side of their slim
   sun-kissed bodies, hiding their interesting parts from view. None are
   missing a rear cloth. Another naked youth comes into view. It's Day Rabbit.
   When I wave my hand at him, the boy turns and bolts away. That's odd
   behavior. I've not done anything bad that he'd want to avoid me.

      I walk past a group of tipis and smile when a warrior named As-a-crow
   lifts his right hand to me in greeting. I return his friendly gesture. He's
   a young man of Big Horn's age who wears three crow's feathers in his hair.
   Encircling his upper right arm is a thong bracelet of crow beaks. The
   sacred bundle worn at his waist is said to contain crow's feet, ritually
   prepared to endow this man with power from the Crow Clan.

      I'm about to pass this warrior by when I see something pleading in his
   eyes for me, more than wanting to say hello. I stop and face the man.

      "You are looking well, Willow Bird."

      "Yes. My legs are nearly healed," I reply while glancing down at my
   scabs with a frown.

      "Be proud of the scars of your body," the man asks. "They are signs
   from the battles that you've won."

      "I was lucky to have survived the wolves," I answer. "A good warrior
   died. It wasn't a battle that could be won..." I glance over As-a-crow's
   chest and note its many scratches. His left arm has several rounded scars
   that probably came from crow bites.

      "He was from the Split Muddy River Tribe. From what I've heard, you
   managed to slay three of the wolves. That's something to be proud of!"

      I'm smiling from this man's praise for me but puzzle over what he's said
   about Swift Scout, that he was from the other tribe so his death didn't
   matter. My lips form a frown. I face As-a-crow when asking him something.
   "Where do you stand with bringing our two tribes together as one People?"

      As-a-crow shakes his head. "I don't want it," he says. "There are more
   warriors on their side who would upset our pecking order. I'd expect even
   our chief, He-who-walks-beyond-all-others to lose his honored status in
   their men's eyes."

      I'm surprised by this warrior's words. They were unexpected and give me
   something to think about. Not the concerns that everyone else has echoed. I
   ask him about that. "Aren't you afraid of revenge?"

      "It is something to guard against," says As-a-crow. "So many years have
   passed since that bad time but... I didn't lose a father in that clash."

      I lower my head when my thoughts turn deep. This man's words are true.
   Another resistance to joining our two Peoples has been presented for me to
   ponder over. Why didn't I consider the consequences that would come from
   integrating warriors from both sides into one council? As-a-crow is given
   my farewell when I continue walking through camp. Head down.

      This task of my father's is proving to be a difficult one. He was
   skilled with bringing men together to talk about their differences and
   resolve them. I am inexperienced by comparison. My attempts have been
   ineffective and clumsy. I have only words of hope to offer and mostly,
   they've fallen on deaf ears. Warriors like Stands Tall have already made up
   their minds. I doubt the council of chiefs I spoken to will heed me. If
   only I were more like my father!

      I'm taken from my troubling thoughts when I spy Crying Loon. He perks
   his head up in my direction. I make a gesture with my head for the boy to
   meet me in the woods. He runs off while I continue my walk along the tipis.

      I reach the end of camp and eagerly race through the trees. A round
   about path is made so that I can join up with Crying Loon. It wouldn't go
   well for us if we were to be seen often together. I'm remembering what
   happened to Song Bird and myself.

      Crying Loon runs up to me. His arms launch themselves around my body and
   I find myself in his tight embrace. The youth lifts his face to kiss me.
   Such eagerness in this boy! I wrap my arms around his back and enjoy our
   moment of reunion.

      When the youth becomes out of breath, our frantic kissing ends. My lips
   tremble with sweet remembrance. I gentle pull from his tight arms to stand
   apart from the boy. A question of testing needs to be asked.

      "How did you endure not having your butt covered?"

      "It was good," he answers. "I was surprised by the reaction from my
   friends, almost as if they were expecting something like that from me. My
   mom sure scolded me though!"

      "What do you mean about your friends?"

      "They... thought I was trying to show off my butt. Stone Skipper liked
   teasing me by patting over my rear end and saying how nicely rounded it was.
   We're often belly rubbing for fun. I showed him how his dick had a place to
   rub from the other side of my body!"

      "He fucked you?" I ask, stunned.

      "No. Stone Skipper pressed his erection against the upper crack of my
   butt. I tried bending over so he could slip it in me but my friend didn't
   want that. Afraid or something... He was happy to give me wet butt cheeks!"

      "You've embraced other boys with naked games?" I ask with envy showing
   in my voice.

      "Oh, yes. I like playing with my friends. I'm often beating off with
   Blinks-his-eyes, Tadpole and Pony Ear. We make a contest to see who can
   squirt first and the farthest! Six Toes likes having his dick kissed,
   especially his balls while he handles himself. I can't suck the head of
   his pole since he says that's too intense for him."

      I smile from the boy's admissions. "I've heard about you being naughty!"

      "Is that why you asked me to take care of Day Rabbit?"

      "Yes. I know he's younger than you and your friends but the boy knows
   how an aching erection can be pleasured."

      "I showed him another way this morning," admits Crying Loon.

      "Tell me." The boy becomes shy for some reason. He lifts his worried
   eyes to mine as if to read my intention.

      "I hope you won't get mad," he whispers. "Day Rabbit came to me with a
   hard dick. I took him in hand to the woods and sucked it for him like he
   asked. Nothing can come out. After he cried out a few times, the boy needed
   to lay down and rest. I sat over his smooth groin... He slipped into me."

      I nod my head at the boy's account. He peers into my eyes from time to
   time so I give him no cause to be embarrassed or fearful.

      "I don't think Day Rabbit realized that his erection penetrated my hole.
   We made a game of it with his stabs going between my cheeks. I rode him.
   The feel of his little dick in me was exciting so I handled myself under my
   front flap. It was getting to the thrilling part when the boy cried out,
   bringing a warrior running to us. I pushed on Day Rabbit and stood up to
   face the man with my assurances. The worry in his eyes changed to humor
   when the warrior realized what we were doing."

      "Which warrior?" I ask.

      "It was Ringed Tail who caught us," says Crying Loon. "I stood my ground
   before the man while Day Rabbit ran off, scared. The warrior laughed. I
   don't think he realized that the little boy was fucking me but he saw our
   hard dicks."

      "Why didn't you run off?"

      "I'm not ashamed," he answers. "I only performed what boys do with their
   friends though letting Day Rabbit stick into my hole is more a man's act.
   If Ringed Tail knew that, I could get into trouble. Are you mad at me,
   Willow Bird?"

      I reach for Crying Loon's right shoulder and grip it. "No. You are a boy
   who can enjoy playing with his friends until that time you're named a man."

      "You continue to... play with the boys."

      "Yes. That's how my spirit directs me," I explain. "Performing Mahyee-na
   acts with boys could bring me trouble. I'm no longer a boy. It's something
   that weighs on my heart each time I embrace youths for love or to offer
   them 'growing up' rites."

      "A moth to the flame?"

      I nod my head at Crying Loon's description. "Yes. I hope that my actions
   with a sweet boy won't burn me." The youth nods his head at my words. His
   eyes drop to the flint blade tucked within my thong belt.

      "You're so different from before, Willow Bird. You have returned to our
   tribe as a man."

      The boy reaches out his hand to touch my weapon. I see the awe showing
   from his face. I'm filled with much pride because of it. Crying Loon runs
   his eyes down the shaft of my knife to its sharp flint blade. The boy's
   attention is directed at my front flap being pushed away from my body.

      "You're in need," he whispers.

      I allow Crying Loon to pull away the front of my breechclout. He's awed
   by my manly display as if seeing it for the first time. My brown length
   stands proud against my groin hair, oozing with sexual anticipation. The
   boy eagerly turns away from me. His butt sticks out with an offering to
   satisfy my lust.

      I gaze over Crying Loon's soft cheeks. They're of lighter brown color
   than the rest of his sun darkened body. Perfect of shape for a boy to have.
   My lusty hands reach down to take them. I get onto my knees. My mouth
   hungrily tastes his rear end and I detect its sweet odor. My tongue darts
   within the crack of his butt. It's sticky in there. My eyes widen when I
   recall what the youth has told me about Stone Skipper's rubbing and wet
   release over his bottom. Am I tasting that boy's sweetness?

      Crying Loon giggles. "I pushed my friend's cum down between my cheeks,"
   he explains. "Even though he didn't fuck me, I fingered his seed deep into
   my hole. Day Rabbit stabbed through me easily because I was wet in there!"

      I'm becoming immensely excited by what the boy is telling me. My mouth
   eats up his sweet ass that's been splashed with cum and recently fucked by
   a little boy. I tongue into his hole for more. My hands draw the youth's
   trembling cheeks closer for me to love. Between breaths, I'm rewarded with
   a bitter sweet taste from deep within. My spit is swirled inside to make
   the passage slippery when I take my turn fucking him.

      I can contain myself no longer. My strong hands bring Crying Loon down
   to his knees before me. I part his cheeks and aim. My hard dick sticks out
   from my groin to fit into his brown butt. My knob presses against the boy's
   hole. I slowly penetrate his small opening. A lusty moan escapes from my
   throat when intense thrills come from my dick stabbing into tight boy.

      A slimy heat surrounds the shaft of my dick. I push more into Crying Loon
   and feel his asshole yielding to my deep penetration. My balls press up
   against his moist cheeks. Our bodies have joined for mating! I grip the
   boy's small hips and begin a man's motion of fucking.

      My chest bumps into Crying Loon's arched back. I look down at my hairy
   groin, amazed that my big dick has found passage through this boy's cute
   little butt. His hole squeezes me wonderfully when I thrust him. Hard! The
   youth cries out in pain so I try keeping my lust in check. He has given
   himself out of love for my pleasure so I must respect that.

      I pause from fucking to catch my breath. My dick was feeling so close to
   release, too soon to be giving up its seed! I lift my hands to massage the
   boy's back. I feel his tense muscles giving way beneath my sweaty palms.

      "Did you squirt in me?" asks Crying Loon.

      "No. I noticed your pain so I'm allowing your body to get used to it."
   My hands continue to roam over the boy's back to relax him with massaging.
   His legs tremble with fatigue from the awkward position he has taken over
   the ground. I reach down to help him adjust the placement of his knees. My
   knees press around his for support.

      "This is the proper mating position," I explain to the boy. "You must
   support your kneeling body to endure a man's slamming. Raise your butt up a
   little." Crying Loon lifts his rear end as I've asked, allowing my hard
   dick to stick further up his butthole. I groan out with much satisfaction.

      I reach down for the boy's left hand and bring it back to my rear end.
   He holds my flexing cheeks to feel my manly motion there. My left hand goes
   around the side of his body and enters his front flap. I grasp his erection
   and pull over it in beat to my forward stabs. Our arms rub with a rhythm.

      Ah, this boy's tight ass is bringing me such pleasure! I try fucking him
   slowly to prolong the intense thrills from my dick that threatens to
   explode out of me. I break up my breaths. My eyes close so I won't be
   further excited by staring down at my dick moving through the boy's small
   rounded butt. I concentrate on bringing him pleasure by masturbating him.
   My fingers play over his thick foreskin, pulling it back to pop his glans
   out. I stab into his hole at that moment. When withdrawing from his butt,
   my hand moves forward over the boy's erection skin. I cup the end of his
   moist dick. The youth releases a lusty moan.

      Our bodies have found the proper beat. I slam into his rear end while
   drawing his dick in my tight hand towards climax. A faster pace is set. I'm
   too close to pause from it now so I make deep penetrations of his tightness
   and squeeze around his erection with my hand. Ah, I'm going to explode!

      There's a warm gushing to my fingers. I feel a wonderful tightening of
   the boy's ringed muscles around my cock, causing me to cum in him. Our male
   bodies are finding release. Intense thrills! When my pleasure fades into
   sweet memory, I stop fucking the boy. In my hand is his wet dick, throbbing
   with satisfaction.

      "That really hurt!" gasps Crying Loon.

      I look down at his trembling butt, impaled on my cock. If I were to pull
   out, the youth would feel more pain. It's best if my dick were to become
   limp before making the attempt.

      "I'm stuck in you," I explain. "Let our bodies relax for a moment before
   we come apart."

      "Like the swollen knot of a male dog inside his bitch?" asks the boy.

      I laugh. "Something like that." My fingers feel sticky around the
   youth's swollen dick, reminding me of his own climax. "Didn't you feel good
   when my hand made you come out?"

      "It felt more like a relief to the pressure building inside my asshole
   from you pounded me," answers Crying Loon. "Your dick pressed against
   something deep in my butt. I can't really explain it..."

      I nod my head with understanding. "That's your squaw spot," I explain.
   "A man's cock pleasures a woman the same way. You are male so your butt
   needs to learn what comes naturally to the girls when they're fucked - that
   hard rhythmic pressing coming deep from your hole is something to be feeling
   thrilled about. A pain/tickle that can bring you to a wild climax!"

      "Is that what you feel when a big man fucks you?"

      I think back to the Moss-bowl Tribe where a mighty warrior fucked me
   with my legs raised over his shoulders. Left-hand Bow's cock could hit my
   pleasure spot deep in my butt. "Ah, yes. It's a very strange sensation
   until you can get used to it, turning the pain into male pleasuring for
   yourself."

      "I'm not used to it yet."

      When my body quakes with laughter, I hear Crying Loon groan with pain.
   My dick is still swollen in his tender boy hole. I hold my breath.

      "I'm feeling a cramp in my right leg," the boy complains.

      I reach my hand down to massage the knot forming in his calf. A cramp
   can be very painful. Crying Loon tries rising on his knees so I follow
   along with him, our bodies still connecting. He slowly stands up. I rise
   next to his sweaty back and hold him close.

      "That's a little better," says Crying Loon.

      I wrap my right arm around the boy's chest to keep us as one. It's more
   than to prevent my hard dick from slipping out from his butt. I'm loving
   him. My mouth goes down to his slim shoulder, nibbling along it until I
   find his moist neck. My lips suck on the soft skin.

      "Don't leave a mark!" the boy warns.

      I turn my sucking into a gentle kiss. His head turns around to draw my
   mouth to his. We strain to kiss. I feel his seeking lips on mine and we
   manage to express love with our open mouths. He darts his tongue in mine.

      Crying Loon giggles from his boldness, ending our attempts at kissing.
   He straightens up in my arms. I feel the rear flap to my breechclout being
   held in his left hand. He presses his right hand over his front flap while
   I'm holding his softening dick within.

      "It's like we're one body," the boy exclaims, "with a deerskin flap to
   cover the front and back of us."

      I hear the awe in Crying Loon's voice. My hand tightens around his wet
   dick in reply. With my right hand, I reach under our legs to pull his balls
   back to mine, cupping them together. Familiar words spring from my lips.
   "From a proven man's loins comes strength to the boy. It makes us one."

      At that moment, my limp dick slips from his hole. Crying Loons releases
   his hold of our bodies and turns to me with a serious expression. I'm
   struck again by his comely face. He's not a cute boy but not ugly, either.
   There's a girl's softness to his features by the way he shows all of his
   emotions that anyone can read.

      "We have come apart," he says with sadness.

      I turn away from Crying Loon's intense eyes to stare down at my sticky
   fingers. With reverence, I wipe the boy's clear release over my loins.

      "Why did you do that?" the boy asks.

      I shrug my shoulders. "To have a part of your love on me, empowering?"
   Crying Loon is struck by my gesture. He reaches back to hold his butt with
   a deep longing coming into his eyes.

      "Your love is deep inside me, Willow Bird."

      I gaze over the youth's bared rear end, being taken in by his nicely
   shaped cheeks and how tight its entrance felt to my stabs. A part of myself
   has been left inside this boy. I wonder if others will discover this?

      "Take back your rear flap," I ask when reaching back to pull away the
   boy's cloth from my butt. "I don't want anyone to see how I've used it."

      "Don't, Willow Bird! I want you to keep wearing my back cloth and take
   my front flap, too."

      Crying Loon pulls the folded cloth from the front of his thong belt and
   offers it to me after turning it around. I see the clear streaks of his cum
   over it. He helps me drop it over my thong belt. My dick feels the cool
   wetness against it. He stands naked before me while I'm clothed.

      "Wear my front flap," I ask. "That way we can always be touching each
   other even when we're apart." My words have found their mark. I have read
   the boy accurately by my return gesture. Crying Loon eagerly scoops up my
   cloth from the ground and covers his loins with it. I notice that there's
   no covering for his butt. An idea comes to me.

      "My monedo had performed a rite of catching what our butts held after
   making love to each other in his tipi," I explain. "That cloth holding our
   love I want to give to you, Crying Loon. You can wear that man's love and
   mine over your rear end."

      "I would like that," answers the boy.

      "Our shaman has kept his things for me. I'll go fetch that flap while
   you wait for me here in the woods." The boy nods his head in agreement. I
   check on the chief's knife to ensure it's secure before running past the
   trees back to camp. My dick presses against Crying Loon's sticky front
   cloth. He's given me a sweet boy smell that my breechclout often had when I
   was his age.

      I pass the tipis of my tribe. The shaman's lodge comes into sight and
   I'm relieved to see its doorflap is open. That means he welcomes guests
   desiring a visit. I announce myself outside the doorway. While waiting for
   his reply, I'm struck by something. I may have to spend some time with the
   old man to tell him about my dream from last night. Uh, oh... How long will
   Crying Loon wait in the woods before I'm able to get back to him with Big
   Horn's ritual cloth for his butt?

      There's no reply from within. The shaman's doorflap is untied so I
   slowly stick my head through for a peek. A smoldering fire centers his
   lodge. It's cluttered with many sacred objects of our tribe so I don't see
   the man right away. He's laying over the dirt, asleep. I slip inside so as
   to not awaken him. When my eyes adjust to the dim light, they behold a
   terrible scene! Blood is soaking into the ground under his head. There are
   cuts to his face. Eyes are closed. I rush to my shaman with a loud cry!

      I gather up the shaman's limp form in my arms. After my eyes glance
   about in fear of the one who did this, I listen for the old man's breaths.
   There is a faint blowing against my ear. He's still alive! I check on his
   head wounds and see that they are grave, beyond my meager skills. I need a
   shaman to attend him.

      "Help us!" I shout through the doorway. After a moment, a boy sticks his
   head inside in answer to my desperate plea. It's Pony Ear. His eyes widen
   with horror at what he sees what was done to our shaman.

      "What happened?" the boy asks.

      "Someone attacked him! Rally our warriors and bring Snarling Bear here
   right away." Pony Ear ducks back outside and I hear his running steps fade
   in the distance. He is shouting all the way. A man rushes in. As-a-crow
   kneels at my side and helps me ease the old man back to his mat.

      "Who did this?" asks the warrior.

      "I don't know! I found our shaman lying over the ground in a pool of
   blood; his doorway was open."

      As-a-crow shakes his head in disbelief. "To attack a man of peace in
   this way, in his own lodge!"

      I see the warrior trying to suppress his anger. His hands shake when
   attending the old man's wounds. He points out an empty sack for me to
   fetch. I bring it to As-a-crow who uses it to staunch the blood flow from
   the back of the shaman's head. My eyes narrow with revulsion. His attacker
   had struck him from behind!

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   {End file: WILLOW-BIRD-WARRIOR-9  The story ends in: WILLOW-BIRD-WARRIOR-10