Date: Mon, 19 Jan 2009 15:59:52 -0800
From: Tom Creekmur <tcreekmur@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Way Of The Heron - Part 10

* * *

The Way Of The Heron

By C. T. Creekmur

Chapter Four

Return Of The Heron

* * *

     Author's warning: This story depicts men performing sexual acts upon
one another that immature people might find shocking. If graphic
depictions of sex between men upsets you, or if you are under 21 years of
age, then DO NOT READ THIS! - go read something else!

     Please understand that this is a work of fantasy and fiction, set in
a time when safe sex was unheard of. It is not intended to provoke or
promote promiscuity or abandonment of common sense where sex is concerned.
Especially in this day and age.

     Though historical personages are mentioned, none of the principal
characters are based on real individuals and any similarity to such is
coincidental. This story is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be
reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the
author.

     Historical Note: This story takes place in August of 1867, partly
during the same time period as the previous story, 'The Valley Of The
Heron' and in a few of the same places.

     And now, on with the story!

* * *

RETURN OF THE HERON

     Will Dern, a wandering trapper, Silas Trent, Will's partner, his only
love, maimed by an accident...

     Desperate for a miracle, Will was touched by voices of hope in his
dreams:

     'Return,' they said, 'Return! Come back to us... '

     Thus the dreams called, urging Will to return, return to his brothers,
and experience the...

RETURN OF THE HERON

* * *

     It was a brilliant day. The late summer sun warmed the land, shedding
its splendid light across the remote wilderness that encompassed Lemolo
Lake. The golden radiance made the tops of the trees that ringed the
emerald-tinted, sparkling waters blaze with a hundred shades of green as
they swayed in the wind.

     Here and there however amid this undulating, verdant landscape could
be seen a tinge of yellow or a flare of red. The vibrant colors stood out
starkly in the sea of greenery. They gave an early warning of autumn's
coming to those who could read the signs.

     Beneath the trees, the floor of the forest was cool and damp, carpeted
with a dense growth of dark, lacey ferns. Their feathery tops waved in the
breeze, dappled by the ever-changing patterns of shadow and light that
filtered down through the overhanging branches. The scent of firs and pines
sweetened the air.

     The sounds one might hear in that place were few and muted. The wind
sighing through the boughs. The songs of birds and the furtive rustlings of
small animals in the undergrowth.

     Into this peaceful world came a pair of intruders. They followed an
old trail that curved along the lake's eastern shore, one that the lush
ferns had not quite been able to overgrow. An eye less sharp might not
even have recognized the track, which looked to be no more than a shallow
furrow through the undergrowth, a mere ripple in the sea of ferns through
which they waded.

     Their progress did not go unnoticed. A watchful jay screamed hoarsely
at the tree-shadowed forms moving below its perch. As the bird winged away,
it became a tiny, fluttering blue speck, before it was utterly swallowed
up in the vast, sighing green of the living canopy overhead.

     Without heeding the angry avian's complaints, the travelers continued
on their way. When they encountered a creek flowing into the lake, they
turned eastward and followed the stream inland. The treading of boots and
hooves were noisy, snapping twigs and causing the ferns to rustle and swish
as they passed by. The jay was not the only forest inhabitant they
disturbed as they tramped towards their destination, nor was their passing
the only cause of noise to break the quiet of the woods.

     Will Dern whistled a merry - if slightly off-key - tune as he strode
along the forest track, leading his pack mule, Matilda. She was loaded down
with supplies, but plodded stoically on. In time, the trees around the pair
thinned and gave way to a familiar landmark, a good-sized clearing of tall
mountain grass, peppered with tree stumps. It was a welcome sight to Will,
a sign that he was almost home.

     The land through which the stream they followed flowed opened as well,
spreading away to the north and south. It formed a good-sized valley. Will
smiled to himself, remembering a certain summer day, only a year earlier,
when he and his partner had found that inviting valley, and the first
evening they had spent there, making love in their open camp under the
starry sky, all night long...

     The man who waded into the field of gently waving grass was in his
late twenties. The errant breeze riffled Will's long hair and beard. They
were a rich, dark brown. He sported a bit more of a waist than he had
possessed when he first came to live in that place. Mountain life had
agreed with the large, muscular man.

     'I'm home,' he thought joyously. 'I've come back to you again, Silas,
my life, my love... '

     The image of his partner, Silas Trent, filled Will's mind sweetly. The
prospector's lean and wiry body, just a bit shorter and hairier than Will's
own. Nearly the same age as Will, Silas had icy blue eyes and hair that
shone with a coppery brilliance. Will smiled, thinking of the first time
he had seen that hair.

     'Blazin' like a desert sunset, it was. And every damn bit as red,' he
recalled, laughing inwardly at his memories of that day. 'I called out to
him, 'Howdy, bricktop'. I could tell at once that Silas didn't like bein'
greeted like that one bit by a stranger. It was a good thing I didn't push
it. He might've gotten his mule streak up and left. Wonder where'd I be
now if we hadn't hooked up?'

     Will shuddered at the harsh thought of life without Silas, but his
dark reverie was banished by the familiar sight of the cabin they called
home when it appeared before Will's eyes. Its architecture was
unremarkable, but its site was not. The cabin had been built hard up
against the southern face of a huge granite boulder.

     It was a titanic stone, roughly cubic, some ninety feet or so on each
side. Its surface was riven with countless cracks and fissures. They were
scars perhaps, left by the awesome seismic event that must have occurred to
transport such a huge mass of igneous rock and bring it to rest in the
midst of that isolated valley.

     The partners had chosen to build their home in the lee of the great
rock, knowing the cabin would be well protected from the full force of the
winter storms that howled down from the north. A wide, grassy vale fanned
outward from the building. Tree stumps stood scattered around in the tall
grass, in various conditions of decay, bearing mute witness to the men's
efforts, both in cabin construction and gathering firewood over the past
year.

     Will circled the building, guiding Matilda around to the east side of
the cabin. There he unlatched and opened the doors to the stable. It was
an ample, sheltered space for the men's mules, wedged neatly between the
cabin and the deeply scarred rock face that slanted inwards, forming half
a cave of sorts; the cabin wall made up the other half.

     Will glanced at the door that led from the stable into the cabin's
living space. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was shut tight.
He muttered to himself as he recalled what had happened a couple of months
before, when he had returned from a short trip to discover a family of
squirrels had found the door ajar and taken over his and Silas' home.

     "Dang varmints. They ruined everything, once they got in," he breathed
in annoyance, remembering the mess, "At least they paid for it by makin' a
good stew for Silas and me." Then he turned and patted his mule's side
affectionately. "It's good to be home, eh, Matilda? Now we can rest for a
spell."

     Will pulled down some hay for his mule from a large, natural hollow in
the boulder. He frowned as he eyed the rocky recesses of the depleted
haymow. Will figured it would not be long before he would have to go up to
the hillside meadow above the cabin to reap some more fodder. The first
snows often came early and unexpected in those mountains.

     Matilda buried her nose in the hay while Will undid her harness and
hefted off the bundles of supplies she carried. One after the other, he
lugged the two packs into the cabin, leaving them just inside the door.
The cabin he shared with Silas wasn't big, just thirty-five by thirty-five
feet, and he took it all in at a glance.

     A battered table and some chairs sat near the cabin's only window,
which faced towards the east. The outer shutters had been opened and
latched back, flooding the interior with light and allowing Will to
clearly see a pair of candles and a pack of cards placed on the table.
He grinned to himself, remembering how Silas loved to play poker and
thinking of certain evenings during the previous winter, ones they had
spent together at that table, bent over their cards while the snow blew,
whispering and drifting outside.

     Will's gaze came up to the window and it sparked more memories. He
thought of the trouble it had been to bring the panes so far into that
wilderness, packed with extra care on his mule. And he recalled the
painstaking skill Silas had put into fashioning a frame for the pieces of
glass, cutting and whittling and assembling the wooden parts over a period
of several weeks. But the hard work had ultimately been well worth it.

     The trapper took in the breathtakingly majestic view framed by the
grid of wood and glass. His eyes rose, above the tops of the surrounding
trees, to the ridges that escalated above them, and ultimately to a range
of massive, snowy mountains. Will's eyes rested knowingly for a few
moments on the sharp, icy pinnacle that dominated the not-so-distant,
gleaming group of white spires: a mountain the local natives called
Zoraxte.

     Will turned away from the mountainous vista to see a large pile of
dry firewood neatly stacked next to an old, but reliable cookstove.
Catty-corner from the stove, in the southeastern corner of the cabin, was
an old potbelly stove with a similar supply of wood nearby. Between it and
the cookstove, the fires they held could keep the cabin quite toasty,
even in the worst of winter blizzards.

     In the last corner was a spacious iron frame bed, flanked by a couple
of old battered trunks set on end. They did double duty, containing the
two men's clothing and personal possessions as well as acting as
nightstands. A second door, barred from the inside, was set nearby, in
the middle of the south wall.

     'Silas must've been here recently. Everything's too clean,' Will
mused as he walked from the window to the door and opened it.

     With both of its doors open, a cool breeze came to waft through the
cabin. It riffled Will's beard gently as he took a deep breath, savoring
the clean mountain air. Suddenly a pair of aspen leaves, brilliantly,
startlingly yellow, rode a rogue gust of wind past Will's face, spinning
and dancing in a wild, weightless duet...

     They twirled away out of sight as Will stepped out the door. The
planks of the small front porch squeaked plaintively under his weight, but
he did not notice. Will scratched his belly unconsciously as he took in
the familiar view his home commanded.

     Mountains reared up to the east, splendidly white with snows that
never melted. To the west stood a dense, green forest. Some ten feet away
from where Will stood, the creek he had followed to reach his home snaked
through the stump field, eventually disappearing into the woods to the
westward.

     It was a tributary of Lemolo Lake, which in turn fed the Umpqua River.
The stream widened into a good-sized pool where it flowed nearest to the
cabin, blocked by a low dam Will and Silas had built at the same time as
their home. The rock wall they had constructed was buttressed by a pair
of thick willow tree trunks on either end. The trees' dangling leaves
partially shaded the pool.

     Some flat-sided boulders lay along the pool's sunny edge, slanting
down into the cool waters. Their stony gray surfaces were mottled dark
green here and there by tenacious mosses. Will smiled to himself,
recalling the uses he and Silas had found for those rocky slabs in the
past.

     When they would recline there together in the warm sunlight, feeling
the rough-soft of mossy stone and the hairy-hardness of masculine flesh
pressed together. When the minnows would come and play about their toes
as they lay half-in and half-out of the water. When they would be locked
in a long, slow kiss, their stiff cocks brushing against each other below
the surface, swaying gently in the current, a tantalizing foretaste of
the pleasures they would soon find in each other's bodies...

     Will sighed as he relived the voluptuous memory and then let it slip
sweetly away, like the waters of the stream he considered. It would go on
to the Umpqua, he thought idly, and hence to the Pacific. Then Will glanced
southeastward, at Zoraxte again, and recalled with a touch of remorse the
one time he had visited that area, less than a month before he had first
met up with Silas.

     At that time, Will had been a relative newcomer to the area. A Union
veteran who was seeking a new, peaceful life after so many years of blood
and conflict. He had taken up trapping and had passed the winter of 1865
in a makeshift camp, making a lot of mistakes, but fortunately not too
many. He had survived them all and was the wiser for it by spring.

     Will had been told it was prudent to change his winter hunting grounds
every year. So he had spent the spring and summer of 1866 exploring,
searching the wilderness for new places where beaver and otter were
thriving. Demand for skins was not what it used to be, but it was still
enough to keep Will fed and outfitted so he could live the way he desired
in his adopted mountain home.

     In the early summer of 1866, the trapper's wanderings had brought him
by chance to a native shaman's home. It was a cave nestled in the foothills
that lay in the very shadow of Zoraxte. The shaman, whose name was Falling
Star, surprised Will by greeting him in English and telling him that he had
come into the lands of the Elxa, also known as the heron men, a
quasi-mythical tribe Will had heard many tall tales about.

     Until then, Will had found it hard to give credit to the stories about
the mysterious heron men because they seemed too good to be true. What he
had heard were tales of a tribe of man-loving men, men like himself, living
in a lost mountain valley protected by supernatural spirits and strange
magicks. Falling Star invited Will to stay with him there awhile. It had
been a memorable visit.

     Will recalled sitting before the fire across from the heron elder in
the cool darkness of his home, the cave of mysteries, listening to him
speak of the special nature he sensed in Will and shared, of its sacredness
and magical character. As Falling Star spoke, flourishing his curiously
long pipe like a sort of smoking magic wand, Will studied the arcane
dream-images that festooned the cavern's walls. Seen through the shimmering
hot air that rose from the fire between them, the drawings seemed to move
of their own accord, almost alive...

     Will wondered if the Elxa elder still lived in the cave of mysteries.
And if so, was he still sitting alone by his fire, contemplating the images
revealed to him in his night-visions, limned on the rocky walls around him?
Did he still speak to others of the tender mysteries and unknown dimensions
of man-love as he had to Will?

     Will frowned, feeling a faint trace of guilt at the old memory. He had
promised to come back to Falling Star before that summer ended, after he
had time to go off and give the deep words of the shaman some thought. But
not long afterwards, he met Silas in a beautiful mountain meadow on a
splendid June evening, an encounter that changed everything...

     'Silas... ' he thought tenderly. 'From the very first day it was just
you and me, you and me... '

     Will went back in the cabin and sat on the bed. He smiled when he
heard the springs softly complaining under his weight. The noise reminded
him of the music they would play when he and Silas were making love.

     Then his reverie was broken as Will spotted a folded scrap of paper
lying on the upturned end of the trunk nearest him. His name was scrawled
on it in a familiar hand. He opened it and read.

     Will - Got back before you & tidied up a bit. Gone to prospect some
rock I found towards the head of our creek. Be back soon. I love you.

     Will touched Silas' looping signature, tracing the letters with his
fingertips lightly, and silently mused, 'I wonder how long he'll be... ' He
looked at the empty bed and remembered how he had slept cold for the past
couple of weeks, missing the feeling of Silas' body pressed warmly against
his. His eyes rose to the calendar on the wall. It was the fifteenth day of
August, 1867.

     He decided not to wait any longer for Silas' touch, the sound of his
voice. Will got up and strode over to the doorway, in order to judge the
angle of the sun. If he started now, he thought, he could be at the head
of the creek that burbled past their cabin before sundown. And spend the
night there with Silas...

     Will turned and went to pull his rifle out of its holster on one of
the packs. He loaded it and pocketed some more ammo before shouldering the
gun and his bedroll. His eye fell on the two rabbits he had shot earlier
and picked them up to take along as well.

     Shutting the cabin doors firmly behind him, Will stepped into the
stable and cast a quick glance at his mule. Matilda was still chewing away
peacefully, and he pulled more hay down for her before he closed the outer
doors and stepped into the bright, mountain sunlight. Then Will began
walking eastward, following the creek.

     'Silas, my love, I'm comin'... '

* * *

     Will's journey through the wilderness was attended by many. A
squabbling flock of killdeer, hopping about at the water's edge, gave a
collective chirp of alarm at his approach and whirred away on many wings.
A fish jumped, living silver gleaming briefly in the afternoon sunlight,
before splashing back into the creek.

     'No time to catch you now... ' mused Will.

     Scrubby willows and aspens shaded his path. They were in turn
overtopped by hardier Douglas firs and lodgepole pines, growing higher on
the slopes. The wind sang to him through the swaying branches, an old,
wordless song, an ancient sighing....

     "Ah, Silas, when I find you... " Will sighed back.

     Along the stream's course, massive stones jutted up from the earth,
silent, cyclopean sentinels, wrapped in living mantles of moss and lichen.
Will's hand reached out of its own accord to touch their surfaces as he
passed. A velvety softness trailed away under the man's fingers, but
beneath, it was rigid, unyielding...

     'Like his cock when he's ready... '

     At one point the rocks closed in and Will had to wade, crossing bars
of rough gravel, roiling the waters and disturbing little schools of
minnows, wavering groups of living exclamation points, moving as one as
they darted out of his path. The trail widened again and he returned to
land. The sound of his boots as they swished through the tall grass was
like Silas' breathy whisper in his ear before he left their home earlier
that month to get some supplies.

     "Be sure to come back to me, Will... I need you... "

     Will's loping stride ate up the miles as he followed the creek's
gently upward-sloping grade. The watershed narrowed and walls of rock
began to rise on either hand. At another narrow gap, Will splashed
through and saw the valley spread out again, a grassy flat with a few
trees marking the stream's twisting path.

     'Showin' me the way to Silas... ' he thought.

     In his way was a patch of red-orange flowers, a living fire burning
under the bright sun. The blooms waved in the breeze, seemed to nod at
Will knowingly. He glanced at them as he passed, wondering.

     'Like the color of Silas' hair... '

     Will began to hum a tune to the rhythm of his walking. He had first
heard it sung by a cowboy in a bar somewhere when he first came out west.
But it was still fresh in his mind and the words came unbidden to his lips
as he trekked onward.

...and my pard and me'll ride
the same ol' trail side by side

knowin' something better'n
the kisses of painted women

to hear him ridin' beside me
with that smile that's so good to see

and his voice low and friendly-like
by the campfire's flickerin' light

with no one to answer to or why
'cept our souls and the stars in the sky

sharin' the free life that we both love
the sorrows and the joys as they come

'til my pard and me'll ride
beyond that last great divide...

     When Will came at last to the end of the song, he sighed heavily. His
lover's name came out along with that heartfelt breath. Then it slipped
softly away with the wind and was gone.

     Not long afterwards, Will's steady stride carried him around a dense
copse of trees growing in a rather tight curve of the little creek. The
watery loop almost formed a small oxbow lake. Then the trapper stopped in
mild perplexity as he unexpectedly came upon an encampment set up on the
far side of the small grove.

     'Huh!' he wondered, looking around. 'For some reason I figured I'd
have to go further than this to find Silas.'

     Even as he thought those words, Will began moving again, towards the
camp. Little things about it told him it had been set up by his lover. But
even as his eyes moved, taking all of the camp in, he could see something
was wrong.

     The firepit that had been dug near the single tent looked as if it had
hardly been used. The wind sifted the thin layer of cold ashes resting in
it mournfully. The tent's entrance flaps wavered, moving in and out lazily
with the breeze. That was unusual, because Will knew that Silas would
always tie them shut, whether he was in his tent or not.

     Silas' mule, Daisy, was tethered to a cottonwood growing nearby. The
animal was straining her halter to reach grass. Will could see that she had
already eaten all she could around the base of the tree she was tied to,
next to a pool in a bend of the stream.

     Will lowered his gear to the ground and moved Daisy to another tree,
wondering. Casting about himself, he at length discerned a faint path
leading away from Silas' campsite. The trapper's concern mounted as he
began to follow it.

     The track was marked by flattened grass and scattered bits of broken
stone. Will guessed they were probably ore samples, dropped by Silas. The
path led into what he knew was a blind canyon.

     One of the larger rocks lying along the trail caught his eye just
then, because it was covered with odd, rusty brown-red stains. Will picked
it up in curiosity, scrutinizing it. Then the stone was falling, dropping
from unnerved fingers as Will felt a thrill of horror vibrate through his
being. He had recognized what those stains were: dried blood.

     "Silas!" he cried out into the ravine ahead of him, suddenly afraid
and listening intently for a reply.

     When a response came to his ears it sounded not from the canyon as
Will had expected, but from behind him. It was an odd and unfamiliar
noise, a hollow, metallic tapping. He turned and soon realized it was
coming from the tent.

     He moved towards it at once. Will knelt at the entrance and pushed
aside one of the heavy canvas flaps and looked inside. A cool, vague
semidarkness met his eyes.

     "Silas?" he breathed.

     When his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Will made out a shirtless figure
lying on a rumpled pile of blankets, the head propped up on a rough wad of
the tangled bedding. One hand relaxed, dropping the spoon it clutched. The
utensil fell and rebounded off of an empty canteen, making again the dull
ringing that Will had heard.

     The man's head was wrapped up crudely in a makeshift bandage, an old
denim workshirt. It covered everything above his nose and was stiff and
discolored where blood had soaked though the cloth and dried. A slightly
musty odor redolent of decay pervaded the tent. Will was frozen in place,
appalled by the sight.

     "Will? Is that you?" the man croaked weakly through dry, cracked lips.
"I'm hurt... help me... "

     "Silas... oh, gawd... "

     The sound of his lover's voice finally overcame the utter shock that
had paralyzed Will, galvanizing him into action. The first thing he did
was to grasp Silas' hand and mutter some words of comfort. Then he
snatched up the canteen, rushing to fill it at the nearby pool.

     Returning just as quickly, he pulled his lover out of the tent by
tugging on the blankets he lay upon. Soon Will was gently cradling Silas'
head in his lap in the fresh, open air as he gave him water, dribbling it
into the injured prospector's mouth slowly. At the same time he tried to
reassure his friend, speaking softly.

     "Everything's gonna be okay now, pardner, you hear me, Silas? I'm back
with you now, Silas, I'm here... "

     "Will... " he coughed, after he'd drunk half the canteen. "Help me to
the crick. I gotta get these wrappin's off."

     "Yes, of course."

     Will lifted his friend's body and strode towards the nearby water.
Silas had never been a big man to start with, but he was all sinewy
muscle, hardened by his experiences in that unforgiving mountain
wilderness, and before that, by the rigors of his service in the same war
Will had fought. Will set him down by the edge of the creek and Silas
fumbled clumsily with the button fly of his pants.

     'Gawd... ' Will thought in anguish as he watched. 'He's so weak.'

     "Do you wanna go in?" Will asked.

     "Yeah, can you help me get the rest of my clothes off?"

     "Of course."

     Will knelt to pull off the man's boots and then finished unbuttoning
the fly of his partner's pants before tugging them off. Silas' cock was
revealed, a limp, dark pink bulk that arched heavily over his ballsac, all
swathed in a nest of red hair. Will licked his suddenly dry lips before
he leaned down to give Silas' manhood a kiss. Silas smiled.

     "You like that, huh?"

     "The sight of Driller always gets me all horned up!" joked Will, using
the name Silas had bestowed on his cock. Silas reached out, finding and
rubbing the lump in the crotch of Will's pants as he returned the favor.

     "You know Logger does the same for me," he grinned.

     Will quickly stripped himself as well, and put both men's clothing
carefully aside. Picking Silas up, Will hugged his lover to him as he waded
into the flowing water. Silas chuckled.

     "What?" Will asked.

     "I thought the next time you'd be holdin' me nekkid like this, we'd be
makin' love," he answered. Will swallowed hard.

     Neither one of them found the creek uncomfortably cold. Years of
bathing in wilderness rivers and mountain streams had inured the two men.
Will set his partner down beside a flat boulder that sloped conveniently
into the water, then shifted Silas so his back was against the stone.

     "You still got that canteen?" Silas asked, splashing water on his
head, soaking the old shirt.

     "Here. How do you feel?"

     "Better," he replied after a few gulps. "I can feel my strength comin'
back. Just weak from lack of water I guess."

     Silas splashed some more.

     "Oh!"

     "What?" asked Will.

     "Is Daisy alright?"

     "Yes, my love, I've moved her to better grass already. She's fine."

     "Thanks," Silas said, rubbing his wet skin. "Could you fetch me some
soap from my tent?"

     "Sure."

     Will went at once and returned quickly, splashing noisily through the
shallows to rejoin his lover. He saw Silas feeling about for a place to put
the canteen. After laying it aside, the wounded man began to tug at and
peel the wet cloth from around his head.

     Bits of softened gore had flowed down Silas' face and gotten stuck in
his red beard. Will interrupted him to slide into the place behind him, so
Silas' back was against Will's chest. Will helped wet the bandages again
before he reached for the soap.

     "What happened to you, pardner?" Will asked quietly as he lathered the
man's shoulders.

     "Oh, I was a stupid ass, as usual... Ow!" Silas yelped suddenly as his
bandage clung stubbornly and painfully to a hidden wound.

     "You okay, Silas?"

     "Yeah, this cloth's stuck on me."

     "Just like me."

     Will smiled as he said that, bending his head to caress his partner's
shoulders with a pair of lingering kisses. Silas grinned at Will's words
and the gesture. Then he went back to working off the bandage, explaining
what had happened to him as he did so.

     "I found an interestin' spot to work and was tryin' to widen a crack
in the face of a cliff. I filled it with gunpowder, like I'd done a hundred
times before. I reached for my prospectin' hammer and boom! I guess I must
have hit something and drawn a spark. The next thing I know I was lyin' on
my back, can't see, and bleedin' like a stuck pig."

     "When did this happen?" Will asked, unconsciously hugging Silas closer
to him as he did so.

     "Gawd knows. Two, three days ago, maybe," Silas sighed, enjoying the
feel of Will's arms around his torso. "I managed to find my way back to my
tent and wrapped my head up with my shirt as best I could. Then I guess I
passed out. I remember wakin' up and feelin' real weak. I found a little
bit of jerky to gnaw on and half a canteen of water. I took little sips to
make it last, but this morning I ran out. I tried, but I just couldn't get
up, much less make it to the crick. If you hadn't come when you did... "

     "Shush. I'm here now."

     Will's slick hands slipped under Silas' arms, feeling the ribs as he
soaped the skin and then passed over the chest, pressing Silas' body
against Will's own. He worked down the chest and over the belly, to stroke
the bar between Silas' legs, feeling Driller's limp length. Silas relaxed
into Will as his partner's hands slid over his sex.

     'Oh, Will... you... touchin' me... ' thought Silas, dreamily.

     Will reluctantly worked his way back up to Silas' neck and rinsed his
partner's beard clean with a few handfuls of water. Silas returned to
removing his makeshift bandage while Will soaped and rinsed himself.
Tugging at the last stubborn spot, Silas freed himself and dropped the
gory shirt in the creek.

     The back of the prospector's head was all Will could see. Silas ran
handfuls of water over his face slowly, shook his head, then cupped his
hands and splashed more water on his face. Again he shook, scattering
droplets of crystal from his ruddy beard across the troubled surface of
the stream.

     "Lemme see," whispered Will.

     Silas slowly turned to face Will. Angry red wounds, small cuts and
powder burns were etched on his face, his beard was burnt a little and
the area around his eyes was ugly and swollen. But none of the injuries
were open and they seemed to Will to be beginning to heal.

     "Whatcha think?" the prospector asked.

     "I've seen worse," Will lied, hoping the worry in his voice was not
noticeable.

     Silas said nothing.

     "It's too late to start back to the cabin now," Will went on, as he
shot a glance at the sun, hovering low on the western horizon. "We'll stay
here tonight and leave in the morning. Can you walk?"

     "I think so... I... I'll be needin' you to guide me."

     Will's expression changed. He quietly lifted a hand out of the water
and passed it back and forth in front of Silas' eyes. Silas did not react.
Then Silas reached up uncertainly and found Will's hand. He gripped it
tightly.

     'Blind!' The word howled in Will's head.

     "Oh gawd, Silas, no," he choked as he wrapped his arms around his
lover and drew him close, starting to cry.

     "Don't... don't do that," said Silas, his arms reaching around to
squeeze and stroke Will's back.

     "I can't help it. I love you."

     "I love you too," Silas said, feeling his useless eyes growing watery
as well. "C'mon," he whispered. "Let's go back."

     Without bothering to dress, the two men returned to the camp where
Will made quick work of laying out their blankets near the firepit,
preferring to sleep out under the stars than in Silas' fouled tent.
Guiding Silas over, Will sat his lover down and draped a blanket over his
damp shoulders before turning to deal with the fire. Soon Will had a
cheery blaze going that had dried them both off by the time Silas could
smell coffee brewing and hear something sizzling.

     "You brought meat?" he asked, his appetite suddenly roaring back to
life.

     "Just a couple of rabbits. Tomorrow I'll go get us a deer. That'll put
some meat on those bones of yours."

     "What in the world you see in a skinny, old fella like me, I don't
know."

     "You ain't skinny and you ain't old," Will scolded Silas with a grin
as he manipulated their dinner. "You're the handsomest man I ever had the
good fortune to run into... Goddammit!"

     "What?" Silas asked, surprised by the profane ending to his lover's
praise.

     "These biscuits ain't risin' right. I never could cook them as well
as you."

     "Here," Silas said reflexively, reaching out as he turned towards
Will's voice. "Lemme do tha... "

     They both fell into a chagrined silence for a bit. Will blinked back
some hot tears that tried to force their way past his eyelids as he
savagely hacked at one of the rabbit carcasses with his knife, as if it
were to blame for the misfortune that had befallen his lover. He filled a
plate with dismembered chunks of steaming meat and guided it into Silas'
hands.

     "Eat," he commanded.

     Silas didn't need the encouragement. The rabbit was still hot and
burnt his tongue, but he was too hungry to care. He gulped more water
from the canteen to soothe his mouth and kept eating.

     "Biscuits?"

     "Yes," Silas said, as Will loaded his plate.

     "Good?" Will asked as his lover practically downed a whole biscuit in
one bite.

     "Delicious," Silas managed around a mouthful of food. "Ain't you
eatin'?"

     "Sure. I'm just waitin' for the coffee to be done. Want some more
rabbit?"

     "Naw. I ain't eaten in awhile, so my stomach might not take to a big
meal, leastwise not right away."

     "I didn't think of that," Will muttered before taking a bite of rabbit
meat.

     "Coffee sounds real good though."

     "It does at that," Will said as he chewed, pouring out two cups.
"There you go. It's hot."

     "I didn't expect anything but," Silas grinned, guiding the steaming
cup to his lips and sipping the scalding liquid.

     "I do make a good pot of coffee, if I must say so myself."

     "That's the best coffee I've had since... " Silas stopped in
mid-sentence.

     "Silas?"

     "I was goin' to say, 'since I last saw you'. But I can't quite
remember how you looked or what you wore that day when you left."

     "That's not important."

     "It is to me, Will. Maybe that day really was the last chance I had of
seein' you. And now I can't recall it." Silas said in a voice laden with
misery.

     Will put his plate down next to the bedroll at once. Then he reached
over to take his lover's plate and cup and place them beside his. Will
moved to Silas' side.

     Will wrapped his arms around Silas, drawing him close. It was a warm,
protective circle, strong and consoling. Will's voice sounded low and firm
in Silas' ear.

     "Now listen to me pardner, and listen good: I love you and you're
goin' to be alright. We have all of the fall and winter ahead of us. You'll
rest and your wounds'll heal and you'll see springtime come upon these
mountains with me again, just as we saw it come together this year."

     Silas shivered and pressed himself tighter against his lover's warm
body. They both shifted into a more comfortable position, lying back, and
Will covered them with the blankets.

     "I'm scared, Will," the prospector admitted in a whisper. "What if my
sight don't come back?"

     "It will."

     Will tried to say that with conviction, but to his ears the words came
out sounding more like a desperate wish. Then he felt an unexpected
pressure against his lower belly and wondered at its familiarity, even as
it grew. Silas moved a little, deliberately rubbing Driller into warm
flesh sensuously, feeling pinpricks of joy tickling his soul as his
lover's belly hairs rasped against his hardening cock.

     "Well I'll be... " Will breathed, surprised but excited by what he was
feeling. "I didn't think you'd be up to any playin' around, so soon after
your accident... "

     "I may have lost my sight, but Driller still works just fine," Silas
replied through a toothy grin. "Besides, I can't help it, Will, I love you
something powerful. Gawd almighty, Will, iffin' I was dead and not buried
deep enough, I bet Driller'd poke clear outta the ground whenever you came
by to visit my grave."

     "A pretty picture indeed," Will snorted in amusement as he reached
down to gently touch his lover's cock. Warm, velvety skin slid loosely
over the rigid gristle at its core. "But I don't like hearin' you talk
about things like buryin' and death and graves."

     Silas' only response was to sigh heavily as the trapper's callused
hand encircled Driller warmly.

     "What're we gonna do about this?" Will went on in a softer voice.

     Quiet breathing answered. Will bent down closer to kiss Silas. The
taste of fried rabbit and coffee lingered pleasantly on the ruddy whiskers
around Silas' mouth.

     "Lie back. Relax. Lemme do the work," Will whispered, without waiting
for a reply. A sudden desire for Silas overwhelmed him.

     Will turned and burrowed down beneath the blankets, impatiently
seeking out Silas' familiar taste. His hot breath caressed the prospector's
prick, causing Silas to shudder as Will breathed "Howdy, Driller." Then
the hot, wet, flexile roughness of Will's mouth engulfed Silas' sex
suddenly, beginning an intimate, slick, determined suctioning, making the
blind man gasp and groan. His hands sought and found the back of Will's
head to grip and stroke, holding onto his lover as all sensation centered
itself in his cock.

     And Silas concentrated, trying to remember. Conjuring up the image of
one particular day, not so long ago, when Will had readied himself to leave
their home to go north into the Willamette valley to buy supplies. And then
suddenly it all came back. Silas could see his lover again clearly in his
mind's eye:

     ...checking the pack bindings on his mule, the most beautiful thing
Silas had ever seen dressed in buckskin...

     ...kissing Will farewell in the stable...

     ...but the thought of parting ached in the men so much that they had
made love one last time right there on the straw...

     ...Will's hips thrusting hard, Will's manhood moving hotly, deep
inside of Silas...

     ...and afterwards, the smell of hay and sweat and semen...

     "Will... oh gawd... I la... love... " gasped Silas.

     Will answered with a wordless noise of surprise as Silas came. The
remembered, familiar taste burst, hot and salty-sweet, over Will's tongue.
He swallowed and swallowed...

     'Damn he's loaded! Gimme it all, pardner... ' the trapper pleaded
mentally.

     Will's hand was a blur, clutching the steel-hard shaft of his own
cock. Silas' taste had pushed him to the edge. It wouldn't be long now...
One stroke, two...

     As if from a far distance, he felt Silas' lean body urgently buck and
twist whiplike beneath his. Fingers were suddenly feeling for Will's sex,
showing the way to a pair of hairy lips. They brushed over and closed
hungrily on Will's engorged cockhead, as smooth, rigid and rounded as a
pebble from a riverbed. A hot tongue impacted, moving unbearably sweet,
wet velvet rubbing determinedly against wet velvet. An instant later the
first musky shot burst forth, filling torrid darkness.

     "Silas, Silas... take what I got... take it all... all... always... "
Will's broken thoughts hissed out of him in time with the volcanic shocks
of pleasure that coursed through his convulsing body.

     The orgasmic kaleidoscope of words and feelings and images that spun
crazily in the lovers' minds suddenly came crashing down, down into an
exhausted oblivion...

* * *

     Eventually, the two men returned to their dinner and finished it in a
comfortable silence, sitting close enough to rub shoulders, a gentle
reminder that they were together again. Afterwards, Silas asked for his
pipe and Will guided it and a pouch of tobacco into his hands. Silas
loaded the pipe and Will lit it with a burning twig.

     They shared the pipe, passing it back and forth, as the sun began to
slip beyond the western horizon. In the last light of day the two men,
still naked, moved to the creek bank. Will cleaned the cookware and his
face and hands while Silas squatted beside him, splashing more water on
his wounds and rinsing out his beard again.

     Will could not help but notice the way Driller's hooded tip dangled
heavily, hanging down from Silas' fiery crotch to graze the surface of the
stream, sending little ripples out. Making the water tremble. Making his
soul tremble...

     Will swallowed hard and looked away, shivering slightly. His averted
eyes spotted the denim shirt Silas had been using as a bandage, snagged on
an exposed root. Will retrieved it, rung the water out of it and started to
spread it out on a rock to dry.

     Then he paused and reconsidered. Folding the damp cloth carefully, he
wound it around the prospector's head, covering the wounds and tying it
securely in place. When Will was done, Silas thanked him with a kiss and
stood up, intending to return to their bedroll.

     A warm arm came up behind his back and a firm hand rested on his
shoulder reassuringly. Silas sighed and leaned into his partner's quiet
strength. It was only a few steps to their bedroll, but Silas felt as if
he could go on like that for a thousand miles, as long as Will stayed
there by his side.

* * *

     Later that night, Silas awoke to find himself being clutched tightly.
Will's belly was pressed against his back, chest hair prickling his spine
warmly. He felt a familiar bulk lying warm and plump, wedged in the crack
of his ass, a pleasant, suggestive pressure. Reluctantly, he gently wiggled
free of Will's embrace and rolled out from under the blankets they shared,
needing to relieve himself.

     Will's quiet snoring continued as Silas stood up. He tried to remember
where the creek was in relation to their bedroll and carefully moved in
what he thought was the right direction. When the prospector felt the grass
under his bare feet give way to gravel, he stopped and held his cock out.
Soon he was enjoying the blank pleasure of relief as the sound of water
falling on water filled his ears.

     'I've always heard that it's good luck to piss in runnin' water,'
Silas thought. 'It appears I'll be needin' all the luck I can get, from
here on out.'

     Then the image of Will's handsome, smiling face arose before his
mind's eye and he sighed.

     'You're a damned fool, Silas,' he chided himself. 'You got Will. How
much more lucky can you possibly be?'

     The flow from his cock died away. Silas gingerly took a few steps into
the creek, moving upstream. He steadied himself against a rock his hands
encountered, then brought handfuls of water to his face, moistening his
bandage and cooling the wounded flesh beneath it.

     'Most folks live their whole lives and never find a pardner who'd love
'em like Will does me,' he continued to himself as he worked. 'I can't
imagine the loneliness they must feel... '

     Finishing, he began to move carefully back to the shore, intending to
pick his way back to Will. As Silas felt grass under his feet again, he
relaxed a bit. Then one of his outstretched hands grazed furry flesh and he
recoiled.

     "Easy, easy," a familiar voice crooned as a hand caught his shoulder.
"It's just me."

     "Will, you blasted idjit! Don't sneak up on me like that!" Silas
gasped, breathing hard.

     "I didn't mean to scare you."

     "Well you did. When I touched that belly fur of yours, I thought I was
b'ar food for sure."

     Will chuckled and Silas could not help but join him in laughter before
the prospector sobered and spoke again.

     "Whatcha doin'?"

     "Keepin' an eye on you, that's all. You might've gotten lost."

     "All I'd hafta do is yell for you, iffin' I had," Silas drawled
flatly, feeling a bit put out. "I ain't helpless you know, I took care of
myself just then right nicely, if I must say so myself."

     "I don't think you're helpless. But you gotta admit you ain't used to
bein'... " Will's voice trailed off, unable to form the word.

     "No, I 'spect I ain't used to it," Silas agreed, avoiding the word as
well. He shivered a little. "Is it anywhere near dawn?"

     "No. One or two o'clock, I'd guess."

     "Let's go back to bed."

     "Lemme piss first."

     "Can I hold Logger for you?"

     Will grinned at hearing his cockname.

     "Yes, of course."

     "Am I pointin' him the right way? I don't want you pissin' on our
clothes. They're around here somewhere, I think."

     "Don't worry, I picked them up earlier and stashed them in your tent.
Ahhh... "

     A liquid arc shot into the darkness, hitting moving waters silvered by
starlight.

     "I like the feel of your pecker. When you piss it trembles in my hand
like a baby bird I once held."

     "I love you," was all Will could manage in reply as he finished,
kissing Silas.

     "I woke up with him against my backside."

     "Yeah?"

     "Gave me ideas."

     "You want to... "

     "Yes," Silas said, his voice suddenly hoarse with desire. "As soon as
you like, my love, but soon... "

     Trembling slightly, Will put an arm around Silas. He turned, guiding
his lover back to their bedroll as Logger stirred, already starting to
thicken and rise. Silas whispered to him and Will went to the tent,
bringing a small jar back with him.

     "Lemme... " Silas breathed as he heard Will open it.

     With Will guiding his hand, Silas dipped two fingers into the jar and
then reached down to work the oil into his sphincter. Will spread some on
Logger, fully erect by now. Oozing droplets of precum drooled from the tip,
viscous salt honey...

     'Gawd, Silas, I wish you could see what you do to me,' Will thought as
he moved to get between Silas' legs.

     Sensing Will's hesitation, Silas reached out and found Logger. Deftly
sliding back the foreskin, he ran his thumb over the slick cockhead and was
rewarded with a gob of precum, which he brought at once to his lips. Will
began to tremble with emotion as he watched.

     "Logger's still all fulla sap, I see," Silas said, smacking his lips.
"I love the way you taste."

     Will moved forward quickly, straddling his partner's chest, bringing
Logger up to Silas' bearded face.

     "Ha... have some more," he breathed.

     Silas took just the tip of Logger in his mouth, sucking gently,
slowly, savoring the remembered sweet-acrid taste of the man he loved.
His tongue probed the slit, explored the cleft below it, thrust under
the taut foreskin and massaged the glans. Will pulled away with a violent
shudder after a half a minute of the sweet torture.

     "You okay?" Silas whispered.

     "I'm about to bust," Will croaked. "Do you want me like this, in your
mouth?"

     "No," Silas said, reaching out, his hands finding Will's hips and
pushing, urging the man back. "Take me. Now. Please. I need to feel you
inside me... "

     Silas felt the hurried movements as Will got into position. Will's
shoulders came up under Silas' knees, raising his ass off the ground. A
hot, blunt, insistent pressure came in suddenly, bearing down on the man's
puckered hole, pushing through and in. And in.

     "All the way, pardner... all in me... Logger... Will!... " Silas
gasped as his lover's cock skewered him.

     Through the lust-haze in his brain Will looked down at Silas, impaled
on Logger, a feral, writhing, masculine fur-muscle-mass. He tried to tell
Silas how handsome he was, how much he loved him, but could not. The moment
was too beautifully fragile for clumsy words to define.

     From somewhere deep in their beings, their souls, an absolute
certainty radiantly arose to scintillate sweetly in their consciousness,
a shared clarity. Each knew his love. And each knew the love held for him
by his partner.

     For a timeless moment the delicate certainty held them together, two
melded into one by Love. Then the transcendent feeling faded before their
equally shared passion. Will began to move, unable to control his desire
any longer.

     "Inside you... Silas... always... love you... " Will hissed,
articulating his broken thoughts between thrusts, as the sweet tautness
in his loins grew more and more brittle and finally snapped.

     In his mind's eye, Silas watched in awe as molten bursts of fire opal
and prism quartz and milk-white alabaster exploded and glittered and rained
down and down, falling forever into a mysterious, bottomless, torrid velvet
abyss of masculine tenderness...

* * *

     Sometime later, Will woke up, instantly aware and looked up into the
sky. A billion distant diamonds flashed and spun in unknown rhythms across
the dome of night. Silas' head was on Will's right shoulder, his steady
breathing stirring the hair on Will's chest pleasantly. With his right
hand Silas gripped Logger loosely in his sleep.

     'Gawd!' Will thought. 'I'm gonna get hard again! Ain't been like this
since... ' The trapper paused to smile. 'Since the last time I came home
from a long trip.'

     And all the other times they had come together again after being
parted. Meeting up after any length of separation always made them randy.
Logger twitched and Will had to admit to himself that it looked as if
this time it wouldn't be any different...

     "Ahhh... " Silas moaned, stirring.

     "You awake?" whispered Will.

     "I can't be. I feel too good to be awake."

     "I love you," Will breathed as he placed a hand on Silas' cheek,
fingers stirring in his beard, Logger stirring in Silas' hand.

     "Now I know I'm dreamin'," Silas chuckled quietly, feeling what was
happening. "You're half-goat and all man. I love you, Will, and I love how
you make me feel."

     "Silas."

     "Yes?"

     "I was thinkin' about what we did earlier, and I... I want you to take
me like I done you."

     Silas' only reply was an quick intake of breath.

     "Are you strong enough though?" Will added. "You don't hafta if you
don't feel up to it... "

     "'Don't feel up to it'?" he snorted derisively. "Hush up and hand me
that lube!" ordered Silas.

     "You sure?" Will asked as he guided the jar to Silas' hands.

     "Try and stop me. Roll over on your belly."

     Will obeyed at once and oily fingers found Will's backside, sinking
deep, diving into the hairy, dark cleft, seeking Will's manhole, pressing
in... Will moaned at the sensation. Logger was a full hot length,
sandwiched between him and the blankets.

     "I'll show you how strong I am, you ol' trapper," Silas said in mock
annoyance, kneeling between Will's widely-spread legs. "Driller's all ready
to go prospectin'."

     Silas guided Driller to the puckered orifice and began to work it in.
Will tried to concentrate on relaxing, for Driller was thick. The tight
ring was forced to expand wide as the flared head at last pushed through.

     They both paused. Silas' breathing was hard and warm on Will's back.
He lowered his head.

     "Ready?" he hissed in one ear.

     "Go... go... hard," Will said through clinched teeth.

     'I'm achin' in my guts for you to do it... ' he moaned inwardly.

     Silas lunged, driving half of Driller's length into a world of
quivering-hot-velvet. Stars flashed and spun before Will's eyes again. He
ground his face into the blankets in sweet agony.

     "Silas... my love... come inside me... fill me... all of you in all of
me... always... forever... " Will pleaded through gritted teeth.

     Another thrust and Driller was all the way in. Silas felt the tortured
asshole spasming around Driller's base and breathed hard. Then he started
to ride his partner.

     "How... do you... like that?... " he gasped between strokes.

     "Yes... hard... 'cause I want you... in me... " Will moaned like a
lost soul as Logger was ground into the blankets beneath him with every
movement of Silas' hips.

     'In me... in me... ' the words echoed, billowing through the lust-fog
in Will's dazed mind. Minutes passed and the pounding rhythm grew more
urgent.

     "Ah!... jeezus gawd... almighty... I la... love you... " Silas managed
just before he crossed the line, hot waves of cum crashing on a fevered
inner shore, forever lost and cloaked in darkness, as the prospector
pounded himself madly into his lover's being.

     Will felt the liquid warmth exploding, coursing, filling his body.
Logger busted loose a moment later, pumping hot slick nuthoney into Silas'
hastily thrust hand. He brought the dripping palmful to his lips and sucked
it up dazedly, but he did not swallow.

     'The taste of him!' the thought roiled rapturously in his mind,
'Will!'

     Silas elicited a gasp from Will as he pulled out, then turned his
partner over and brought his body and lips down on Will's. They embraced,
limbs interlacing, clinging to one another desperately as a salty slick
tongue forced its way into Will's mouth and let his own essence return to
its source, flow between them, back and forth, a shared, thrilling savor...

* * *

     Will kept a tight, protective hold on Silas long after his partner had
gone back to sleep, his mind a prey to unnumbered fears. An owl hooted
ominously somewhere in the dark and a coyote yipped plaintively to the
gibbous moon that hung dully, a gray-white smudge in the otherwise clear
sky. Will's eyes hurt, but he kept them open, his gaze focusing on the
jewel studded firmament overhead as he thought hard.

     Again and again Will reviewed his options. The nearest doctor he knew
of was four days away, by hard riding. But they had no horses. The mules
would be slower and Silas' handicap would surely slow them down more.

     'A week at least, if everything goes right,' Will thought, frowning at
his mental computations. 'But does Silas have a week?'

     Unsure of the extent of his partner's injuries, Will worried that the
delay might cost Silas his eyesight. Every day that went by without proper
treatment meant the possibility of the problem becoming more serious. Or
even incurable.

     'What'll I do?' the trapper thought in a mental agony, over and over.

     A falling star caught the distracted man's attention. It described a
vivid, flaring arc against the night sky. Will followed it with his tired
eyes, intent on making a wish, trying to form his inner turmoil into a
verbal request.

     But something else stirred deep in the man's soul and what came forth
was an intense, wordless plea for help, a desperate spirit-cry into the
starlit void. The meteor flew on, its burning light dimming the stars as
it descended to the southeastern horizon. Celestial splendor glinted pale
pink off the snowy mountains and for a split second described something
like an exclamation mark above the tallest of the nearby peaks.

     'Zoraxte!' Will thought suddenly, 'The Elxa's sacred mountain!'

     Abruptly, inexplicably, Will's mind cleared, as if touched by a
beneficent spirit. His dark dreads fell away and disappeared, like autumn
leaves dropping into a rushing river, that carried them off to some distant
ocean. Apprehension, helplessness, bewilderment, and their negative
corollaries all vanished in a moment, banished to an unknown, remote
oblivion.

     As Will's fears faded, their places were taken by a pure feeling of
Love, an ineffable presence, an elemental essence untrammeled by words or
concepts. Unhurriedly, the right-feeling-sweet-force filled the trapper's
mind and body. It flowed through him with a warm solemnity that Will
marvelled at.

     The living energy touched Will's inner being, making it vibrate like
the tolling of a great bell, or the strings of an old violin. It was a
universal rhythm, a conductor seeking spiritual musicians. His soul, and
Silas', were but two notes of a much larger score, a magic song linking
them to all other men like themselves, their man-loving male hearts
seeking, calling, singing to all the other man-loving male hearts...

     "Damn... " Will breathed slowly, almost overwhelmed by the sensations
that had possessed him. "Damn... "

     Will looked down, at the night-darkened head lying on his chest, felt
the lean, naked body pressed to his side, and blinked as a tear formed and
ran down his hairy cheek. The top of Silas' head was just below Will's
chin, and he nuzzled it lightly, stirring the red hairs with a breathy kiss
before leaning back and closing his weary eyes. Within a few minutes Will
was deep in a dream filled sleep.

* * *

     Slowly, awareness came back to Will. He found himself moving, passing
through another place, a place he sensed was very strange and different. And
even though he found himself alone and naked in this unusual new environment,
he felt oddly unconcerned about it.

     Somehow, it seemed to Will that he had been walking along unhurriedly for
a long time, though he did not feel in the least fatigued. The trapper could
not be sure where he was going because of the dense, swirling mists that
surrounded him. Yet none of these quite remarkable things seemed able to
trouble him.

     The ground in that mist-obscured realm sounded as if it were made up of
loose, rough gravel. It slid and grated noisily underfoot with every step the
man took. Though the sharp edged rubble did not cause Will's bare feet any
pain, it did tell him that others were approaching.

     The sounds of many footsteps, crunching aloud like his, came clearly to
Will's ears. Those noises finally shattered his complacency and he stopped
abruptly, filled with uncertainty. Even more alarmingly, a rank scent suddenly
wafted through the fog, like that found in the lair of some wild animal.

     Straining his eyes, the man caught vague glimpses of squat, theroid
shapes stealing through the cloying haze. A pack of beasts were circling Will,
sniffing the air with high, thick snouts. It was as if they were sizing him
up, as they might a bull or a stallion that had become separated from its
herd.

     Reality, such as it seemed to be, abruptly crashed in on Will. He
suddenly realized with an awful clarity that he was defenseless and lost and
in imminent danger. The man fought against a sudden urge to panic, to run,
somehow sure the wolflike things that now surrounded him would be able to
follow and keep up with him easily. And he was also sure that when he got
tired and could go no further, the ravenous predators would close in on their
weakened prey...

     So the trapper stood his ground, unsure of what else to do. He tried to
scrutinize the dark shapes that encompassed him, to learn more about them. But
it was too difficult to get a good look at the stealthy stalkers through the
clinging mists.

     Then Will heard something unexpected cutting easily through the odd fog.
It was a thin and hollow sound, yet gently melodious, and, quite inexplicably,
had an almost tactile quality about it. From somewhere ahead of Will in the
swirling fog, the music of a solitary flute seemed to come, drifting through
the cloying haze to caress the trapper's skin lovingly. Each note had the
uncanny feel of a kiss from his beloved Silas.

     For the half-seen skulkers around Will however, the music's effect was
quite different. Each note seemed to cause them pain, striking the mephitic
beasts like some sort of sonic lash. Stung by the song, they scattered and
disappeared, retreating swiftly away into the billowing mists with snarls of
frustration and rage at being thus cheated of their prey.

     Will sensed that it was not just the music that had frightened and driven
the weird animals away. There was something else in that song: a subtle
meaning and an incredible power. A power that was feared by the beast-things
because the message it conveyed was a profound mystery beyond their abilities
of understanding, one terrible and frightening to them.

     Will frowned to himself, puzzled, as he continued to listen to the oddly
haunting tune, not knowing why or how he instinctively knew so much about it.
Somehow, he could swear that he had heard the melody before, but could not
quite remember where or when. Without willing it, he felt himself moving
again, his body drawn inexorably towards the source of the maddeningly
familiar music.

     An unknown amount of time passed as he walked. Will found himself hard
pressed to tell if he was getting closer to the source of the music or not. It
was as if time were a variable component of this place he found himself in,
wherever it was.

     But it did not feel as if he had gone very far before the white haze
lifted enough for Will to see the source of the music. A large, flat-topped
boulder stood before him. It was as high as an average man's height and
covered with strange carvings, like Indian pictoglyphs Will had seen in his
travels.

     Atop this engraved rock sat a naked native man, playing the tune Will had
heard from afar. Will studied the man's strikingly handsome face intently, but
was sure he had never met the flutist before. After a few moments, the
musician lowered his instrument and looked down at the white man from his
unique perch with grave eyes, black as night.

     "Why have you come here?" he asked quietly.

     "I'm... I'm not sure," Will began, not expecting the question. "I just
heard your music and when I did, I followed it."

     "You could not have heard the song of the heron nor followed it unless
your nature was the same as mine," the native replied. He cocked his head and
went on. "Where are your spirit wings?"

     "My what? I don't... "

     Will was silenced by the sight of great, iridescent wings unfurling from
the flutist's back. They appeared to be made of fibrous light, shimmering with
an otherworldly glory. The beautiful appendages stretched out and curled to
envelope the trapper.

     A curious warmth began in his spine and when he looked, Will could see
pinions quite similar to the musician's sprouting from his back. The newborn
wings shone with a fragile looking radiance, each strand in them appearing
like a fine thread of glass that would shatter at the slightest touch. But
they flexed easily, their edges brushing against and meshing with those of the
native.

     Will felt a jolt of pleasure tingle through his body, somewhat like what
he felt whenever he was intimate with Silas, only more intense. He knew the
man on the rock had felt something similar when he saw the flutist's cock
begin to thicken and grow. The trapper licked his suddenly dry lips. The sight
of this excited, desirable man attracted Will and he stepped closer, reaching
out to touch him, knowing he would be touched in return, caressed, loved. He
could feel Logger stirring between his thighs in anticipation as he prepared
to climb the glyph encrusted stone and join the musician on his perch...

     "No, Will." The native's gently spoken words stopped the trapper. "There
is no time for love-play now."

     A sudden gust of wind came, lifting and blowing away the fog. Will
unexpectedly saw that he was standing before the place he had accidentally
stumbled upon the year before, the cave of mysteries. Its black entrance
yawned before the trapper. He knew it was the home of the native shaman known
as Falling Star, the chief medicine man of the mysterious Elxa tribe. He
looked up at the flutist.

     "You... are you a heron man?"

     "I am one of those who protect the Elxa," he replied mysteriously. Will's
eyebrows raised.

     "You're a spirit?"

     "If you like," he smiled. "I have taken the form of one of your brothers
so that we may speak, but now you must go. The guardian of the cave of
mysteries is waiting for you within," the musician intoned as he gestured
towards the cavern's dark maw, then began to raise his instrument back to his
lips.

     "Wait, tell me, what were those... those things circlin' around me back
there?"

     "Hyaenas," the protective spirit answered, making a face as if the saying
of that word had soiled his mouth. "When you see him, Falling Star will
explain what those beasts are as well as many other things to you."

     Upon hearing those words, Will nodded and turned reluctantly away from
the handsome Elxa spirit to enter the maw of the cavern. The eldritch music of
the flute followed the man, echoing soothingly in the rocky corridor as it
sloped gently downward into the depths of the earth. Logger swung heavily
between Will's legs as he walked, plump with blunted desire.

     A fire was burning in the darkness ahead of him, and as he approached it,
Will could see the flames illuminated a domed grotto with many singular images
painted across its roughly curved walls. It was all just as he remembered. As
Will reached the fire, he was puzzled to see Falling Star himself sitting
cross-legged before it. From what he had been told by the spirit outside, he
had been expecting to meet someone or something else. The shaman's eyes were
shut and Will sat down opposite the heron elder to wait.

     Then he noticed with surprised eyes that two of the medicine drawings on
the wall were moving. One was a red, lithe, animal shape, four legged, running
in place against a rocky background. The other was simply five blue lines,
waving and ruffling upon the wall as if touched by a witchwind from another
world.

     "You are surprised to see me," the sitting figure began abruptly. "I am
the guardian of the cave of mysteries, a spirit like the one you met outside,
though I have taken the form of my mortal brother, Falling Star, so that we
might more easily talk. Many moons have passed since you were last here,
Will."

     The sound of the spirit's voice pulled Will's attention away from the
eerily moving pictoglyphs. But the drawings refused to be ignored. Drifting
lazily across the cavern wall, they seemed, from Will's perspective, to alight
on the shoulders of the shaman's image, forcing the white man to continue
looking at them.

     "Yes, grandfather," Will answered respectfully, noting that the
guardian's eyes were still shut.

     "Have you given thought to the things Falling Star spoke to you of when
you were here last?"

     "Yes, I've tried, but I still don't know if I understand them."

     "I believe you do, in your heart, if not in your head."

     "What do you mean?"

     "Do not be concerned about meanings or explanations, my son. It is as our
brother Nizano often says, naming things is unimportant, but knowing
them - really knowing them - that is what is important. And you know. Silas
knows also. But you both simply do not know you know."

     "What don't we know?"

     "That you are both heron men, for one thing."

     "Members of your tribe?"

     "That and more," the guardian replied cryptically as he held up his hand
to stop any response from Will. "But that is not the reason why you are here
now. I know of Silas' misfortune. Bring him to us, and I will see that herbs
and medicines are sent to soothe and heal his eyes. I will also sing many
songs to my brother spirits, asking them to aid our efforts to help him."

     "How did you know... ?"

     "Your sadness called to me across the land, and when I sensed it, I knew
you needed our help."

     It was then that Will remembered the meteor and the wordless wish he had
made upon it. But the memories of all that had happened to him in Silas' camp
were now oddly confused and vague. It was like recalling a dream, not to be
compared to the seemingly solid reality of the cavern in which he now sat. He
could feel the cold, gritty floor under his bare rump and shifted
uncomfortably.

     But somehow Will was certain he had been awake then, and afterwards went
to sleep, so his presence in the cave of mysteries now was the dream, not
reality. He shook his head in perplexity. He gave up trying to understand what
was going on, and went on to another issue.

     "How do I find you? I'm not sure if I remember where this place is
exactly."

     "Another spirit has directed Falling Star's life-partner, Red Hand, to
your home, to show you the way. You will recognize him by this token, an Elxa
glyphstone. All who wear it are your brothers."

     The guardian stretched his hand across to Will above the fire to offer
the trapper something. The heat did not seem to affect him. Will reached to
take what he held and was surprised to find that the flames did not burn him
either. He looked in his hand and saw a rounded black stone, a river pebble,
pierced, with a stylized bird's image carved on it.

     'A heron... ' he thought.

     "Now you must go," the spirit said.

     Will looked up at the guardian of the cave of mysteries and saw that his
eyes had opened at last. But they did not look like human eyes. They were
blazing orbs of lavender fire, pulling somehow at Will's being, drawing him
into their unexpected depths.

     Impossibly, Will was suddenly falling, falling into a universe of cool
violet flames. Somehow he knew it was a blaze fed by the collective love of
the heron men. A passion fire, fueled by Love, destroying all that was
not-love, burning away his doubts and fears as he traveled through it,
crossing the bounds of unknown dimensions...

* * *

     Will opened his eyes, as awake and acutely alert as in his dream, if it
had been a dream. He wondered at what he had just experienced. Then the feel
of something in his hand distracted Will, something that was round and smooth.

     Totally taken aback, Will lifted it up at once to look at it. There was
just enough light from the low-burning campfire to illuminate the object. The
ruddy glow from the wood embers and the little tongues of flame that seemed to
float weightlessly over the coals revealed the Elxa glyphstone he had been
presented with in his dreams.

     The man's mind was instantly in turmoil, revolting against the evidence
of his eyes and seeing no logic in what had happened. But the stone was there,
in his hand. Somehow, against all reason, Will had to believe that an unknown
power beyond his ken had summoned the white man's spirit to Falling Star's
home, the cave of mysteries, somewhere amid the mountains to the southeast.

     And if that were so, then the rest of it was true as well. Will looked at
his partner, feeling an enormous relief, knowing he would have help. The
experience precluded any doubt in the word of the spirits the trapper had met.
He carefully set the stone on the edge of their blankets.

     Will noted the eastern sky beginning to brighten. Dawn soon, and then the
journey back to their cabin, to await Red Hand's arrival, before they all set
out again for the lands of the heron men. He suddenly wished the night would
not end just yet, so he and Silas could stay where they were a little longer,
with their naked bodies pressed so warmly and comfortably together.

     He turned his head to give Silas a light kiss. His partner lay still,
breathing quietly next to him. Then a hand came up to brush Will's side.

     "You awake?" Silas whispered.

     "Yeah. Can't you sleep either?" asked Will.

     "How can I, with you around? You bother me, Will, in ways I love to be
bothered by."

     Will grinned and said nothing. Silas sat up and reached over to where he
had left his pipe and tobacco pouch. He loaded it again and turned to his
lover.

     "Can I trouble you for a light?"

     "You never trouble me, pardner."

     As Will replied he found another half burned twig and applied it to the
bowl. Silas inhaled and sighed contentedly. The pungent smoke curled in the
air, wreathing his head as he spoke.

     "I've been thinkin'," Silas said quietly, "what to do if my sight don't
come back... "

     "Hush. It will."

     Will cooed the words, thinking of his dream. But somehow he felt that the
time was not right to tell Silas about it. Instead, he reached over and gently
tousled the ruddy, shoulder length hair on his partner's head, playfully.

     "Thanks, Dr. Dern," Silas guffawed, then took another pull on the pipe
and went on more seriously. "Will, you know as well as I do that if wishes
were horses, then beggars would ride. I've had a pile of gunpowder explode in
my face. Lots of folks have lost more'n their eyes over less things'n that."

     'Oh my Silas... my love... you must see again... you must... ' Will
thought desperately before he spoke. "But you can't be sure... You have to
hope."

     "I ain't givin' up, if that's what you think," Silas reassured his lover
with a flourish of the hand that held his pipe, leaving a ring of fragrant
smoke floating on the air. "But, if after this winter I still can't see, well,
I'll just hafta go away to someplace where people like me can be taken care
of."

     "What if I wanted to take care of you?"

     "How could you, and still be free to lead a trapper's life?"

     "I'll change it. You'll be my life, as you are already. How could I go on
without you?"

     "I don't wanna pester you, hang around your neck like a carnsarned
albatross for the rest of our lives."

     Silas took another pull on his pipe. Will watched the glowing bowl grow
in intensity and then fade, like a minor reddish nova in the darkness. He felt
slightly annoyed.

     "Who'll take care of you if I don't, ya stubborn ol' cuss?"

     "Maybe I'll go to one of them old soldiers' homes that the government
runs," Silas went on, answering his lover's question. "I hear the one in San
Francisco is real nice... "

     "I don't think they're takin' in Rebel veterans," Will chuckled.

     "It's funny ain't it," Silas went on in a different tone. "Iffin' we'd
met up durin' that crazy war, we'd have tried to kill each other, just 'cause
of the different colors we wore. Hell, it got so's I'd no sooner see blue'n
shoot at it!"

     Will chuckled again, more softly and slyly, and Silas turned his bandaged
head towards him.

     "What's so funny?"

     "I was just rememberin' the first time you let me make love to you, the
way I wanted," Will said, letting his fingers trail down his partner's back,
stopping to tease the patch of crimson hairs that grew just above the
beginning of the prospector's buttcrack.

     Silas shook with silent laughter, little puffs of smoke escaping from his
nose.

     "It took awhile for you to make your mind up to it," Will continued. "But
you finally told me one day to get on with it and ignore anything you might
say."

     "I'm glad you did. Most people'd have thought I was tetched in the head,
the way I carried on."

     "There you was, buckin' under me like a wild mustang, cussin' like ten
devils, damnin' every Yankee that ever lived to hell and worse while I rode
you, hard, 'cause you was the handsomest damn cuss I'd ever laid eyes on and I
ached to have you that way."

     "I was mad at myself, for fallin' in love with a Yankee. But after awhile
I reckoned there wasn't no help for it. I had no choice but to give myself to
you," Silas sighed, as he tapped the burned out bowl on the ground before
placing it back beside his tobacco pouch.

     "Well, if you wanna get rid of me now, you'll have to shoot me," Will
declared as his partner pulled the strings tight and shut the pouch before
laying it aside. "And you won't be able to do that until you've healed."

     "I reckon that's so."

     "It is."

     "Just plain stuck with you."

     "Damn right."

     "Will?"

     "Yeah?"

     "Can you help me with this little problem I've got?" Silas asked
innocently, taking Will's hand and guiding it to his hard cock.

     "Feels like a big problem to me," he chuckled. "And you call me
half-goat!"

     "I told you before, I can't help it when you're around."

     "Where's that lube... " Will muttered. "Ah!".

     Soon, Silas felt an oily hand close warmly over Driller and slide up and
down, coating it. The movements sent little shivers of pure delight racing
through his being. Will pulled Silas closer with his other arm, so he could
kiss him.

     "Can you come like this?" he asked, his lips moving in Silas' beard.

     "Yeah... "

     Will brought his mouth down on Silas'. Tongues touching, tasting beards,
each other. The sweetness in Silas' loins built and grew taut and fragile as
he sucked on Will's tongue, imagining it was Logger reaching for the back of
his throat...

     As the first milk-white shot flew up to wet his beard Silas moaned
amorously around Will's kisses. When he was done the ruddy hair on his torso
was matted with puddles of semen. Will moved to kneel next to his lover,
working Logger.

     Silas felt more hot liquid splashes striking his skin and reached,
wanting to taste them, but Will stopped him. He heard and felt Will licking
and sucking their mingled seed out of his chest and belly fur. Then he stopped
and Silas felt something dripping on his bewhiskered lips, knew Will was above
his face, letting the proof of their mutual passion drool slowly from his
mouth into Silas'.

     Silas opened his mouth and greedily swallowed each dollop of sperm Will
fed him. When they kissed, Silas sucked at Will's tongue again, trying to get
the last savory drop. At last they both fell back onto their blankets,
exhausted.

     "The sun'll be up soon," Will said wearily as he pulled the covers back
over their bodies. "Helluva night, eh?"

     "It was the same way the last time we were apart for a awhile," Silas
grunted, cuddling up closer. "Don't you remember?"

     "Ah, yes... "

     The two men dozed off in each other's arms as the world around them
brightened by slow degrees.

* * *

     It was Silas' turn to dream. A stranger, a red haired white man, had
appeared to stand naked and silent beside his and Will's bedroll. He gazed
down at the two men with brown eyes that held an infinite gentleness.

     Puzzled but not alarmed, Silas returned the scrutiny. He did not wonder
why he was able to see again. His attention was caught up in admiring the
mystery man's lithe body.

     At last the stranger knelt. He reached out to caress Silas' bearded cheek
and hairy shoulder with a touch that was like the brushing of a butterfly's
wing against the prospector's skin. He ran his hand down to Silas' own and
gripped it.

     He rose, lifting Silas to his feet. Keeping the prospector's hand clasped
in his, the stranger unexpectedly spread a broad pair of beautiful, multihued
wings. Those exquisite pinions curled gracefully, surrounding Silas and
stroking his back lovingly.

     To Silas' great surprise, he abruptly grew a gorgeous pair of wings also.
They shimmered and shone like a fine mesh of iridescent crystal, but flexed
easily as he waved them back and forth, admiring the sight of his new
appendages. When the prospector looked at his companion again, the stranger
smiled and took flight. Hand in hand they flew high into the delicately-tinted
dawn sky.

     As they rose, Silas looked over his shoulder. He saw the campsite
dwindling in the distance as they flew with a speed that was beyond Silas'
comprehension. The land rushed by so below him that he could hardly bear to
glance at it in passing. Looking up, he saw they were approaching a great,
high mountain and the winged man alighted with the prospector at its icy apex.

     From that vantagepoint, Silas found he could look out over all the lands
that peak dominated, spread out all around. His eyes seemed suddenly gifted
with a preternatural keenness, capable of discerning even the smallest details
of the surrounding countryside, no matter how far away. And there was much to
see.

     To the northwest, he could see the cabin he shared with Will clearly.
Smoke drifted lazily from one chimney, and Silas wondered fleetingly who was
in their home. Then he looked to the south and saw a stream that cut around
the base of the mountain he stood on.

     It flowed southwestward, and then curved to the west and northwest, a
shining arc. It grew wider as it flowed, fed by numerous tributaries, forming
limpid pools and cascading over rocky dropoffs, eventually reaching the North
Umpqua River, just north of where that stream left the great lake of diamond
waters, as the natives called it. Silas knew that its waters continued flowing
northward into Lemolo Lake, which lay not far from his and Will's cabin.

     The land through which this creek passed seemed to burn green with life.
Trees of many types flourished, their branches beckoning to a host of birds,
their shade screening many animals and tender plants. And there were stretches
of lush grassland as well, mountain meadows where the grass grew dense and
waist-deep.

     And he saw the inhabitants as well. Many men, different physically but
sharing the same spirit, playing, learning, loving, living with one another in
harmony. And a shining aura of peace rested over all, sustained by the
goodness of their spirits and the strength of their love, attracting
beneficent, invisible forces Silas could feel working their magic among the
men from afar. As Silas filled his eyes with the sight of the splendid land,
the winged man at his side spoke at last, whispering sibilantly.

This is your home,
This is where your brothers live,
And love,
And wait for you...

Beneath shady boughs,
Beside rippling waters,
Amid flowering meadows,
In spacious longhouses...

The Elxa invite you:

To join the hunt,
For furtive deer and mighty elk,
Feral boar and wild goose,
And snarling carcajou...

To share their feasts,
The bounty of this smiling land,
A plenty gladly given,
And taken with grateful thanks...

To play gentle games,
Seeking knowledge with a touch,
Of the love that burns within
All man-loving male hearts...

Their joy is great,
And you would make
Their great joy greater
With your loving presence...

O Come, my brother!
Add your divine spark
To their flame of love
And build the man-fire higher...

     Silas looked again at the majestic sweep of the land and knew his
companion had spoken the truth. He could feel the land and its inhabitants,
both human and spirit, calling to him, to his special, inner nature, to that
which lived in his man-loving male heart as well as theirs, and he was moved
by an irresistible desire to join their brotherhood. Fearlessly, he stepped
off the lofty, icy precipice...

* * *

     ...and woke to find himself clutched in Will's arms, held firmly to his
lover's side. A leg was thrust warmly between his own and Driller lay soft and
flattened against Will's thigh, unprovoked by the position. Silas grinned to
himself.

     'It's about time you took a rest, Driller,' he mused, before relaxing
back into slumber.

* * *

     As a new day brightened the land, the growing warmth of the sun
eventually coaxed the two men out of their bedroll. They finished off the cold
remains of the previous night's meal, washing it down with a pot of scalding
coffee. Then Will guided Silas to the creek, where they both washed again.

     While Silas stayed by the water to clean and soak his wounds, Will
reluctantly left his lover and began to prepare for their departure. After he
dressed, he turned his attention to gathering Silas' belongings and equipment,
bundling them all into a pair of mule packs. Once they were strapped onto
Daisy, Will returned to Silas.

     Will washed and rinsed out the old denim shirt thoroughly, folded it and
moved to replace it over Silas' wounds. But not before carefully inspecting
his partner's face. All the other injuries seemed to be healing cleanly
enough, but the ugly puffiness and sickly discoloration around the
prospector's eyes stubbornly remained.

     Will frowned thoughtfully to himself as he tied the makeshift bandage
back in place, troubled by what he saw. Then he helped his partner to get
dressed. As luck would have it, Will had found an extra shirt earlier, while
he was busy packing Silas' gear.

     Taking hold of Daisy's halter, Will wrapped his free arm around Silas'
shoulders to guide him as they set out to return to the cabin they had built
together and called home. As they walked along, Will began to tell his partner
about his uncanny dream of the previous night, about the heron men. He brought
Silas' hand up to touch the Elxa glyphstone he had received from the guardian
of the cave of mysteries, which Will had since strung on a rawhide cord so he
could wear it around his neck.

     "You mean to tell me," Silas said incredulously, after Will had finished
his story, "that just 'cause some old galoot appeared to you in a dream, a
whole year after the last time you saw him, we've gotta go spend time in some
Injun camp?"

     "It really happened, Silas, you've got to believe me. I was told he'd be
able to cure you," Will spoke quickly, with a touch of desperation in his
voice. "We gotta take a chance on this, for your sake as well as mine. I love
you so much, I can't not consider it."

     "I have funny dreams too, you know. Last night I dreamt of a flyin'
redhead that brung me to a mountaintop and recited some poetry to me before I
jumped off... "

     "Was his rhymes that terrible?" Will grinned.

     "No, but all I'm sayin' is that I'm not gonna go out and do something
like jump off a cliff just 'cause I dreamt it!" Silas took a breath. "I
remember you tellin' me about your meetin' with the Elxa chief before we met,
and I've been hearin' the legends of the heron men since I first started
livin' in these mountains. But I thought it was all too good to be true, at
least until last night."

     "That must have been some dream."

     "It was," Silas sighed. "It seemed as real as this is," he said as he
found and squeezed Will's hand.

     "Then you know why I want to go to the valley of the heron, Silas. And I
want you to go with me," Will insisted.

     "After bein' with you for so long, I thought I knew your every mood,
Will," Silas replied, a hint of amused bewilderment tinting his words as he
shook his head, making his long crimson locks sway. "But this is the first
time I've ever know you to act plum out-of-your-mind crazy! Crazy like a
loon - or in this case, a heron!"

     Silas burst out laughing at his own joke, frightening a pair of jays
sheltering in a nearby oak. They flew away, screaming raucously, blue wings
stroking blue air. Will watched the birds disappear into the trees and sighed,
but had to admit he was amused.

     "Very funny, Silas, but seriously, pardner... "

     Will felt Silas' shoulders sagging in what he knew was resignation
beneath his guiding arm.

     "What have I got to lose? His doctorin' can't be any worse'n yours... "

     "Huh?"

     "I'm kiddin'. Well, what does this guy... Star Chief?... want us to do?"

     "Falling Star," corrected Will with a grin and a kiss. "I was told that
his pardner, Red Hand, was comin'. He'll guide us to his home in the valley of
the heron."

     "I'll go, as long as you stay with me. You know I don't exactly take to
strangers, 'specially ones I can't see."

     "You ornery ol' redhead," Will chuckled as he hugged Silas closer. "I
know you, pardner. You'll be makin' friends in no time. Now tell me more about
this dream you had while we walk."

* * *

     The sun was just reaching its zenith when the two men rounded the last
bend in the pine-shaded trail along the creek. Before them was the edge of the
stump-riddled clearing that fanned out from around their home. The myriad
cracks and fissures in the southern face of the great cubic stone standing
behind the cabin showed starkly in the noonday light. The twisting, jagged,
black marks scored haphazardly across the vast boulder's pink-gray surface
looked as if they might have been an inscription left by some survivor of a
lost civilization.

     Just before they reached the edge of the stump field, Will glanced
casually in the direction of their cabin. Abruptly, he stopped in his tracks.
Will's eyes were fixed in dismay on a plume of smoke wafting lazily upward
from one chimney.

     "Why'd we stop?" asked Silas.

     "Somebody's in the cabin," Will whispered, squeezing his partner's
shoulder reflexively.

     "Damn! Just like in my dream! What'll we do?" Silas breathed back,
feeling utterly useless.

     Will's response was to reach for his rifle and cock it. Silas could tell
from the sounds he was hearing what Will was thinking. Suddenly his heart was
gripped by the fear that Will might be killed, leaving him alone in the dark.

     He said nothing though as Will hid him and the mule behind a clump of
myrtle trees and moved off quietly, but not before kissing Silas reassuringly.
Silas strained his ears and caught Will's shouted words as he challenged the
house. Then there was a long silence.

     Silas thought of his elder brother Jesse, who had fought in the war with
him. Jesse, whom he had worshipped as only a younger brother could, who had
died in Silas' arms after a nameless skirmish with Union troops. Something had
died inside Silas on that day as well. After that, Silas became a bitter,
killing thing, taking crazy risks to make the Yankees pay for what they had
done to his brother.

     Such daring had eventually come to the notice of his commanding officers.
Before the end of the war came, Silas had been promoted to colonel for his
bold exploits. He reached up and nervously fingered the edge of the gray
officer's hat he still wore.

     It was a battered and timeworn trophy, worn unapologetically to honor his
brother soldiers. In the year since he had met Will, Silas had begun to allow
himself to think of Will's comrades as deserving of the same respect. But his
insistence on wearing the rebel relic had provoked more than one bar fight in
his time with intolerant unionists, none of which Silas had ever been on the
losing side of. As he had told Will on more than one occasion, the only thing
he liked more than sucking cock was kicking Yankee ass.

     But it was not barroom brawls over old quarrels he was thinking of. Silas
was worried that if Will were hurt, he would be unable to avenge him, as he
had Jesse. Then the sound of approaching footsteps tugged Silas out of his
dark reverie.

     His hand went instinctively to his gun. But then Silas stopped himself
and grimaced, thinking that in his current condition, he was more liable to
shoot his mule than any attacker. Then he relaxed, the tension broken as he
heard the sound of Will's happy voice.

     "Silas?" Will began, before helping him up and hugging him. "It's okay."

     "Who's in our cabin?"

     "Red Hand and a white friend of his," explained Will. "He was sent to us,
just like I was told in my dream. He's goin' to show us the way to the valley
of the heron."

     "That was fast," Silas commented.

     "Yeah," agreed Will as they started moving again. "Mebbe they'll tell us
how they found out about us."

     Reaching the stable, Will made short work of seeing to Daisy before
guiding his partner into the cabin. Odd, unfamiliar odors, vaguely redolent of
moldy hay, smote Silas' nose as he entered the door, making him sneeze. As he
pulled out his bandanna and wiped his nose, he could feel heat radiating from
the nearby woodstove. The air was humid, charged by something he could hear
boiling on it.

     Judging by the somewhat musty smell however, Silas decided that whatever
was cooking definitely was not food. He stuffed the bandanna into his back
pocket, doffed his hat and felt about for a chair, sitting down at the table
which he knew stood near the door. A strange voice spoke as he did so.

     "Hello, Silas Trent," a quiet, grave voice spoke, as a hand grasped
Silas' in greeting. "I am Red Hand, of the Elxa. I have been sent to help
you."

     "Yes, Will told me about you."

     "This is my friend, Asa Sykes. He is traveling with me to see Falling
Star."

     "Pleased to meet you."

     As Asa spoke, Silas felt another hand find his and grip it. After a
moment or two, he realized Asa was wearing gloves. He was about to ask why
when Red Hand spoke again.

     "Will, would you unbind your partner's eyes?"

     Will removed the wrappings from Silas' head as Asa went to have a seat
out of the way, at the far end of the table. Red Hand came closer to examine
Silas' wounds. Cautioning his patient to stay still, the heron man's gnarled
hands moved carefully, cleaning the injuries with a touch so gentle it
surprised Silas.

     Will watched the Elxa elder work, studying him. It seemed to Will that
Red Hand was about the same age as Falling Star, fifty or so. Intent on his
task, Red Hand's clear black eyes were as dark and shiny as his long hair. It
lay in a long ebon queue, snaking down the back of the pearl gray elkskin vest
he wore.

     It was a remarkable garment. A master tailor must have expended all his
art upon it, carefully stitching and ornamenting the soft leather with
porcupine quills and tiny glass beads. The designs they formed were unlike any
Will had ever seen before. Perhaps, he supposed, they were symbols of especial
significance to members of the Elxa tribe.

     Red Hand's bare arms were sinewy and copper-dark, suggestive of quiet
strength. Will watched anxiously for an expression or other sign that might
tell him how bad Silas' condition was. However, Red Hand maintained a stony,
impassive visage as he worked. It continued even when he paused to look at
Will.

     "I am in time, I think."

     As Red Hand murmured that, Will let out a sigh of relief. He was
extremely reassured by the heron man's good news. But something else still
bothered him.

     "Red Hand, can I ask how you get here so fast?" Will asked. "The dream I
had happened only last night!"

     "Does that really matter?"

     "No, I guess not... "

     "But still you are curious," Red Hand said. He glanced at Silas. "And
Silas probably wonders at my being here as well."

     "Well, yeah," Silas nodded.

     Red Hand nodded back as he answered, his voice holding the tiniest
possible amount of amusement as he did so. "Two weeks ago, as I was traveling
back to my home, I met Asa and suggested he come with me to the cave of
mysteries and speak to Falling Star."

     "Why?" Will asked, glancing at Asa. The man had a troubled look on his
face.

     "That is between him and Falling Star," Red Hand answered gently.

     "Sorry, I didn't mean to stick my nose in where it didn't belong," Will
said contritely.

     "No, it's alright," Asa began. "I have problems that Red Hand thought
Falling Star could help me with. So we were going to see him."

     "But," Red Hand went on, "as we traveled, I had a medicine dream. One of
the protective spirits of the Elxa, the Green God, came to me. He told me to
seek out this cabin and wait for the men who lived here, for they needed
help."

     "Really?"

     "Yes, Will. It is our way to pay attention to our dreams and our
feelings. I did not know I would be coming to aid you when I began this
journey, but after my vision, I knew of you, your need, and what to do when I
found you."

     "Silas and I have both had some odd dreams lately, ourselves."

     "Is that so?" the Elxa man murmured thoughtfully. "We will talk about
them later, if you wish."

     As he spoke, Red Hand turned away to retrieve his own pack of supplies.
After rummaging through it, he came up with a small leather pouch and a long
strip of white linen cloth, about a yard long and four inches wide. He spread
the cloth out on the table and sprinkled it generously with hot water.

     From the pouch he withdrew a mass of crushed plant matter, oozing a
thick, milky sap and smelling like new mown hay. Making two small greenish
white piles on the strip, he folded and refolded it so it would not leak out
once it was bound over Silas' eyes.

     "What is it?" Will asked.

     "We call this healing herb a starflower. The ones that have blue blossoms
are good for external wounds," Red Hand explained, moving to tie the strip so
that the part with the medicine was positioned over Silas' eyes.

     "It feels strange," Silas said as the juice of the blue starflower seeped
into the skin around his eyes, making it began to tingle. "It's kinda itchy."

     "It is good you can feel it working, Silas, but do not scratch," Red Hand
warned, before turning to Will. "This will have to be done every day,
preferably in the mornings, and the bandage should be kept moist. I have
enough medicine to last two more days, plenty of time for us to reach the
valley of the heron, if we leave tomorrow morning."

     "That shouldn't be a problem," Will responded.

     The trapper looked for a sign from Silas, but his partner continued to
sit in his seat quietly. Red Hand turned to the cookstove and dipped a cup
into a pot of hot water. There were bits of plant stems, yellow petals and
leaves floating about on the surface, but Red Hand avoided them and soon
guided a cup of clear, rusty colored fluid into Silas' hands.

     "Here, drink this tea, it will help heal you."

     "Phew!" Silas exclaimed after the first sip of the midden scented brew.
"What'd you do, boil a polecat in it?"

     Asa burst out laughing at that, but stopped at once when he saw the
reproving looks he was getting from both Will and Red Hand.

     "It is made with another kind of starflower. The yellow variety can heal
your internal wounds." Red Hand explained.

     "From the way it tastes, this plant shoulda been called skunkweed." Silas
replied dryly to the elder after another sip.

     "Drink as much of it as you can," Red Hand sighed.

     "He'll drink all of it," Will stated confidently.

     "I will, I will," said Silas, recognizing the firm tone he heard in
Will's voice. It meant that his lover was determined to get his own way in the
matter. "But just you wait 'til you get sick and it's my turn to nurse you
with some of this skunkweed tea!"

* * *

     The men ate fried rabbit and biscuits again that evening. Neither Will
nor Asa were able to scare up any other meat in the course of a quick hunt in
the woods surrounding the cabin. Counteracting their ill luck, Red Hand added
his own touch to the meal.

     He made up a sort of porridge, consisting of crushed seeds and acorns,
flavored with wild garlic. It was quite tasty and kept the dinner from seeming
too monotonous to Silas and Will. As they ate, the prospector and trapper
spoke of their odd dreams to Red Hand.

     The Elxa elder listened attentively to their stories. More than once, his
eyebrows rose in mild surprise at a few of the details they gave. He obviously
recognized persons or objects they had seem in what he called their medicine
dreams.

     But when they were done he told them it was not his place to interpret
their visions. It was for Falling Star to do so, when they saw him, though it
was possible they might meet some of the persons they saw in their medicine
dreams when they visited the valley of the heron. When the meal was over, Will
gathered the plates, preparing to wash them.

     "Can I go with you?" Silas asked.

     "Of course. My hands are full, but you can hold onto my belt."

     "I wanna try walkin' there on my own. I think I can remember where our
crick-pool is."

     Silas got up and, using the heat from the stove to guide him, went to
the door on the south side of the cabin. He opened it and went out into the
late afternoon light. Though he could not see it, Silas felt the warmth of
the sun on his face and used it to guide himself. He turned in what he
thought was the right direction and soon heard the gravelly edge of the
creek bank crunching under his boots.

     He found a stump to sit on, then felt for and picked a stalk of grass,
which he began to chew thoughtfully. After a time, he heard Will coming
towards him. Silas could tell it was Will from the clatter of the cookware
he carried as he set it in the water. As Will began to wash, rubbing a
handful of gritty sand around the inside of a pot, Silas opened his mouth
to speak, but Will beat him to it.

     "I'm sorry I didn't ask your opinion back there, about leavin'
tomorrow."

     "I don't mind. I guess the sooner we get movin', the better. Besides, I
trust you Will, I know you'd never do anything that would hurt me."

     "You know I feel the same about you."

     They fell into a contented silence, each happy knowing the other was
nearby. When Will was finished rinsing and stacking he rubbed his hands dry
on his pants. Hearing no more noise, Silas spoke.

     "Are you done?"

     "Yes."

     "C'mere and sit with me a spell."

     "Sure. What's on your mind, pardner?"

     "Well, I was wonderin' about the sleepin' arrangements this evening.
Are our guests stayin' in the cabin?"

     "Nope. Red Hand told me he and Asa were spreadin' their blankets out
up in the haymow. I told him they didn't have to sleep in the stable with
the mules, but he insisted."

     "What do you think of Asa?"

     "What do you mean?"

     "Why does he wear gloves? What's this 'problem' he's seein' Falling
Star about?"

     "I'm curious about those things too, Silas, but they really ain't any
of our business."

     "I suppose so. Tell me what he looks like."

     "Oh, he's a little younger than us, maybe, and about your height, with
a trimmed black beard and hair. He has the look of a townsman about him."

     "Handsome?"

     "Not half as much as you."

     "Then he's a looker," Silas grinned. "That is if I'm really as
good-lookin' as you keep sayin' I am!"

     Will chuckled. "Anyway, I guess they didn't want to intrude on our
privacy this evening. And just between you and me, I'm lookin' forward to
sleepin' with you in our bed tonight!"

     "Oh."

     "You don't sound very pleased by the prospect," Will joked. "You gettin'
tired of me or something?"

     "No, of course not, it's just that I thought we wouldn't be able to be
alone together tonight, so I wanted to... "

     "Here?"

     "Yeah, but I guess there's no need... "

     Silas was interrupted by the feel of a hand unbuckling his belt and
the tug of fingers popping the buttons on his pants. Will knelt before him
and pulled out his lover's cock and balls. Driller hardened as Will cupped
the man's genitals gently, reverently, in his hands, kissed them and looked
up again at Silas.

     "I would do anything for you, pardner, anything. All you have to do is
ask... "

     "Will... " Silas' voice faltered, as his hands reached, finding and
stroking his lover's hair and beard gently, while Driller rose to display
his full, rampant glory before Will's smiling lips.

     A moment later Silas shuddered violently as Will went down on him
hungrily. The prospector had been waiting all day for this, feeling the
tension rise sweetly within him as they had traveled home. It had been fed
by listening to Will's voice, the feeling of his strong arm across Silas'
back, the firm grip of Will's fingers on his shoulder, the casual brushing
of their legs as they walked closely together along the trail back to their
cabin...

     'Will... down... all the way... your beard... pricklin' my balls... '
Silas struggled for words in his mind.

     But beyond Will's familiar touch and the sensuous feelings they aroused,
Silas could also detect an odd sensation beginning. An uncanny energy seemed
to be rising up into him from out of the depths of the earth beneath him. The
only thing Silas could compare it to was the feelings he would have sometimes
when he looked at a rock formation and somehow knew that it held gold.

     The unknown force rose mysteriously, inexorably up. Up through the roots
of the old stump he sat on, up into his body, and his cock, filling it,
empowering it. Silas' every sensation seemed amplified by the odd telluric
energy as Will spurred him on to release.

     The tautness in Silas' body grew, grew brittle, broke... That which
spasmed forth from him seemed in his mind's eye to be all fluid gold and
viscous silver and ruddy copper, shooting, veining out, filling fissures
deep within warm, mysterious blackness, glittering gorgeously in the
dark...

* * *

     Asa yawned, opened his eyes and blinked at the stray shafts of morning
sunlight shining through gaps in the stable door. Red Hand was pressed
comfortably against him, breathing regularly. He moved one gloved hand,
gently stroking the back of the older man whom he had come to respect and
cherish, wishing he could feel Red Hand's skin.

     Unbidden, the memories came back. Of the violent electrical storm that
had raked the small town of Cedar Flat not so long ago, and of the titanic
bolt of lightning that had struck Asa's cabin, destroying it utterly and
almost killing him. For three days thereafter, Asa had lain in a deathlike
coma at the home of a friend until he woke up. At first everything seemed
alright, but he soon discovered a frightening change in himself.

     His hands - no other part of his body seemed affected - had become
charged with some bizarre power. Whenever he touched another person, Asa
would have visions, see fragments of that individual's future. It was an
unnerving thing, this prophetic ability he had not asked for, nor could
control.

     So when a strange Indian appeared who seemed to know all about Asa's
troubles, the man had jumped at the chance he was offered of a cure. And
learning that Red Hand's tribe was composed entirely of men like himself,
man-loving men, only increased Asa's curiosity. He sold what little he had
left in Cedar Flat and said farewell to his friends, most of whom thought
the man had lost his mind to go off into the wilderness with an unknown
Indian, before setting out to find the legendary heron men. Asa hoped
fervently that Red Hand was right and that the Elxa medicine man Falling
Star could help him.

     "Good morning, my friend," Red Hand whispered, distracting Asa from his
reverie.

     "Good morning... umm... " he returned the heron man's kiss, a haunting
reminder of the gentle love they had shared during their journey. "Red Hand,
you told me to let you know if I had any odd dreams. Well, last night, I did."

     "Tell me," he murmured, becoming more alert.

     "I was standing beside a lake, and a big heron, the biggest I ever saw,
with eyes that looked like balls of violet fire, rose out of the water and
said, 'Do not be afraid, Sees Far. The Elxa are your brothers and Falling Star
will help you.' Then it spread its wings and flew away, towards a distant
mountain. What does it mean?"

     "You have seen one of the Elxa's gods, the Heron Spirit who dwells in the
great lake of diamond waters. And he has given you a tribal name."

     "'Sees Far'?"

     "Yes. Appropriate, considering what you can see when you want to."

     "Yeah, I suppose," Asa replied, wondering.

     "Do you smell that?"

     Asa sniffed. For the first time he noticed the aroma of something
cooking. Will must have started breakfast.

     "Yep. I guess it's time to get up."

     "Asa, I know using your gift makes you uncomfortable, but it would take a
heavy load off Will's mind if he knew his partner would see again. I would
like for you to touch Silas."

     "And find out if he'll ever see again?" Asa asked, looking uneasy.
"Well... if you think it will help, all right."

     "They would have to know about you."

     Asa pondered Red Hand's quiet words for a moment. "They seem like
trustworthy guys. Okay."

* * *

     Over breakfast, Red Hand explained to Will and Silas about Asa's problem,
the medicine dream he had experienced the previous night and the new tribal
name bestowed upon him by the Heron Spirit. Silas listened in consternation,
wondering what Will's dream had gotten them into. The heron men seemed to work
strange magic, with medicine men communicating with native spirits and each
other through their dreams. And now there seemed to be a real live prophet
sitting at their dinner table!

     But the prospector did not object when Asa asked him for his hand. Bare
flesh met and squeezed, setting off a series of flashing images in Asa's mind,
seen as if through Silas' eyes. First, there was a fuzzy image of a soaking
wet, half-naked, red headed man, holding onto Silas protectively. Then, rather
bizarrely, a pair of skeletons lying in a dark room.

     The images began to flash by faster. Bright sunlight revealed the
unmistakable glitter of gold playing in the side of a rock. Then a young man
with pale blonde, almost colorless hair appeared, lying beside a campfire. Asa
stiffened when he saw the black bore of a rifle, pointed at himself. He knew
it was meant for Silas, but could not help his reaction when he saw the orange
flash as it fired...

     "No!" Asa cried, letting go and recoiling from Silas, falling back into
his chair.

     "What did you see?" exclaimed Silas.

     "Will my pardner see again?" Will asked.

     "Yes," replied Asa as he pulled his glove back on. "But you don't want to
know the rest, trust me."

     "What was it? I have a right to know!" Silas demanded at once. Asa looked
at Red Hand, who nodded, and Asa sighed before telling them all he had seen.

     "I'm sorry, Silas," he said as he finished.

     "Sees Far, you do not know for sure what you saw," began Red Hand. "It is
not at all certain that you saw Silas' death."

     "That red-headed man he described, he sounds like the one I saw in my
dreams," Silas added, brushing aside the darker aspects of Asa's vision. The
prospector was of the opinion that a man made his own destiny and was not a
puppet of random chance.

     "It could be you are destined to meet this man, Silas," opined Red Hand.

     "Sounds like you're destined to do more than that if he was huggin' you!"
Will joked.

     "Well, we'll never meet anybody if we don't get movin'," Silas pointed
out. Taking the hint, the others gathered the things they needed for their
journey and soon afterwards the men set out for the valley of the heron.

* * *

     While Red Hand and Asa walked ahead of him, Will held onto Daisy's reins
as he followed. Silas rode her and, tethered so that she trailed along behind,
was Matilda, bearing the men's supplies. The group did not hurry, but they
fell into an easy gait that ate up the miles.

     The journey southward turned out to be not as difficult as Will had
imagined. Red Hand guided them to a trail Will had never seen before, nor did
he remember Silas ever mentioning it to him. The path led to one steep climb
in the late morning, taking them across a ridge that defined the watershed
between the land drained by the creek that passed the men's isolated cabin and
the area to the south.

     As they reached the crest, Red Hand paused and pointed. Will and Asa both
strained their eyes and looked out across an undulating mountain plateau, lush
with tall grass. The land descended easily towards the southeast, declining
along with a small stream. The men could just make out the distant traces of
another, larger creek that it joined up with, a glittering ribbon of
sun-touched water.

     "Heron Creek," Red Hand announced. "It runs through most of the valley of
the heron."

     Once the men had left the ridge and began following the stream, Silas
could tell that they had reached a treeless plateau of some sort. The
prospector could feel warm sunshine on his skin and hear the swish of long
grass brushing against Daisy's legs as she moved along. Will dropped back and
rested his hand on Silas' thigh reassuringly as he walked next to his
partner's trusty mule.

     Silas bent to kiss his lover's hand, but Will saw and reached out to turn
Silas' head, guiding the kiss to his lips instead. There was a little
clumsiness as they dealt with the other movements going on at the same time.
But the kiss was gentle and lingering anyway, as Will leaned a little against
Daisy's side. depending on the mule to lead him for a few, sweet moments.

     "Would you like to hear a song?" asked Red Hand unexpectedly, his face
still set resolutely towards the distant, glinting creek, their goal. "It is
for both of you, Silas and Will."

     "Sure," Silas answered, for Will was too surprised by the heron man's
announcement to speak. Red Hand's voice rose:

Sun high over mountain vales,
Legs striding through long grass,
Who is it that comes?

My eyes see two men,
Handsome as summer,
Strong as a Chinook,
But my feelings see more:

They share but a single heart!

Two men, one heart,
Your beauty makes me sigh!

     "Two men, one heart," Silas repeated, reaching out to find and squeeze
his partner's shoulder affectionately. "He's sure got us pegged, eh?"

     Will slipped an arm around Silas' waist and returned the hug before
looking at Red Hand. "You made that up all by yourself?" Will asked, sounding
profoundly impressed.

     "All heron men compose songs and sing them to their brothers, when their
spirits move them to," Red Hand explained.

     "I don't know if I could learn to do that," replied Will.

     "Me neither," Silas agreed. "I know a few songs I've heard before, but
I've never tried to make one up."

     "You already know how to. Soon you will be with your brothers, among the
Elxa, and you will remember how to sing. Your songs will be beautiful." Red
Hand stated confidently.

     "Will the heron men call us what you did? 'Two men, one heart'?"

     "If you wish it," the Elxa elder began. "But you both will inspire many
others to sing songs of praise like mine and in them you will be given names
you might, perhaps, like better."

     At length, the men found themselves approaching the stream they had spied
from the ridge, Asa caught sight of a small, faint plume of smoke rising up
from beyond a scattering of trees on the nearer side. He glanced at Red Hand
questioningly. The Elxa elder noticed the look and spoke, answering his
companion's unspoken query.

     "Our tribe maintains a campsite nearby. Someone has come to prepare it
and wait for us. He will take Silas to Roman Rock and care for him, while I
lead you and Will to the home of Falling Star."

     It seemed highly unlikely that anyone could have known that the mixed
party was on its way to this particular camp. It was yet another demonstration
of the Elxa's mysterious and uncanny sense of knowing where and when they were
needed. It made Asa wonder, but Will's thoughts were elsewhere.

     Will shot a glance back at Silas. Although his partner must have heard
Red Hand's words he remained silent. But Will could tell by the set of Silas'
lips that the prospector was not pleased by the unexpected news. To tell the
truth, Will was not exactly happy either. He had assumed Silas would be
staying close to him while they were in the valley of the heron.

     As the men passed under the trees, the rushing sounds of a waterfall came
to Will's ears just before he saw Heron Creek. At that point it widened and
deepened into a swirling pool before going on to fall over an as yet unseen
dropoff. He could tell that someone had been busy in the open area on the near
side of the stream.

     A firepit, ringed with stones from the creek, held a cheery blaze and an
ample supply of firewood lay nearby. Both were set amid a grassy clearing some
thirty feet across, bounded by the creek's edge and the surrounding trees. An
ample lean-to stood nearby, in the shade of a huge oak.

     Will also saw a pair of heron men there, standing and talking by the
firepit. The elder of the two, a venerable looking man with long, snow white
hair and dressed in a fine buckskin suit, laid his open hand on the other's
chest, over his heart, in leavetaking before starting to walk away, their
conversation apparently at an end. As the older man moved off, striking out
upon a gravelly trail that paralleled Heron Creek, Asa abruptly pointed at
something beyond the heron elder and called out in alarm.

     "Hey! Look!"

     "What... " Will began, turning.

     Then he too caught sight of what Asa had spotted, an oddly colored wolf.
The reddish-brown beast slipped silently into the woods ahead of the old man.
Both seemed to be headed in the same direction, downstream, and had already
been swallowed up by the surrounding forest by the time Will could react.

     "Hey! Look out there!" Will called after the elder as he grabbed for his
rifle.

     "No, Will," Red Hand said quietly, gripping Will's arm to stop him. Will
was surprised by the strength the heron elder exhibited.

     "But it was a wolf!" exclaimed Will.

     "That old man's in danger!" Asa added.

     "He is perfectly safe," Red Hand assured them both. "That was the
Spirit-Wolf you saw, one of the guardians of the Elxa. None of our tribe would
shoot at him. Could you not tell by the color that it was no ordinary wolf?"

     "Yes, but... "

     "There is another like him, the Ghost-Bear. They are not brute beasts,
but can both think and reason like men. Though they cannot speak, they can
communicate with us by writing if they have to. They also share our man-loving
natures, are brothers and mighty protectors to the Elxa. You must never shoot
at any pale-furred bears or the wolf you just saw. Do you both understand?"

     "Um, not really, but as long as we're in your lands, we'll obey your
rules," Will agreed, pushing his rifle back into its holster on the pack his
mule Matilda was carrying. Asa nodded his agreement as well at the same time.

     "I will tell you both more about these spirit animals later, I promise."

     "Who was the old man?" Asa asked. "He must have plenty of 'good medicine'
to get wolves, spirits or not, to protect him!"

     "That was our brother, Xaculi, who just departed," Red Hand murmured,
sounding almost apologetic. "He is an elder in our tribe, one who took part in
the migration to the valley of the heron, long ago. He must have some urgent
business at Roman Rock, our main settlement, or else I am sure he would have
stayed to greet us."

     "What is it?" Will asked, when he noticed Silas snickering quietly to
himself.

     "Za-koo-lee! What a funny name!" he chortled in reply.

     Will grimaced wryly at his partner's outburst, amused and embarrassed at
once. He hoped Red Hand was not offended by it. But when Will glanced at his
guide as they entered the clearing, Red Hand's face betrayed no sign that he
had even heard Silas' comment.

     Red Hand gave an odd whistle just then and the man who had remained
behind in the camp responded in kind even as he moved forward to greet the
newcomers. Will's mouth gaped as he stared at the person in surprised,
unexpected recognition. In every way, this individual resembled the musician
whom he had met and spoken with in his medicine dream two nights before. The
flute playing spirit who had saved him from the ravening pack of evil hyaenas
that had threatened him, the one who had driven the dangerous beasts away with
the mystical song of the heron.

     "I am Mayati," the Elxa brave introduced himself simply when he came up
to meet the travelers.

     Having heard the details of Will's vision the day before, Red Hand
watched the white man's reaction to the meeting closely. From Will's
description, the heron elder had guessed that the spirit Will had seen had
taken Mayati's form. What he saw in Will's face just then confirmed his
suspicions.

     "I'm Will... "

     Mayati stepped closer and gave Will a welcoming kiss. Will responded to
it heartily, his mind still whirling. He felt Logger twitch and begin to swell
in response to the touch, but the sensations the trapper felt were not all
physical.

     The world was suddenly transformed into a magical place by Mayati's kiss,
full of tender, intimate possibilities. In his mind, Will could hear a native
flute trilling lively and provocative airs and witnessed gentle games of
passion played out in the tall grass under a bright sun. He imagined the
feeling of smooth coppery skin moving deliberately, rhythmically against his
dark fur...

     The heron man's eyes were pools of sparkling black ink, holding a gentle,
wordless promise. Mayati turned from the pleasantly distracted white man to
salute Red Hand and Asa with other, perhaps slightly less-passionate-seeming
kisses. Then the native stepped closer to Silas to grasp the man's hand in
greeting.

     "I'm Silas."

     "I am glad to meet you."

     When Will saw that, it focused his mind on his lover again. Silas was
still mounted on his mule, no more than a few feet away, unable to see what
was going on around him. Will felt the lash of guilt on his conscience, a
sudden flash of shame and anger at himself.

     'I can't believe I kissed Mayati like that in front of Silas!' Will
thought in shock.

     Will turned to hide his blushing face from his companions. Looking for
something to do that would conceal his embarrassment, his eye fell on Matilda.
He went up to his mule and pretended to minutely examine Matilda's pack
harness for wear or chaffing of the animal's skin as he considered what had
just happened.

     'But I knew all along in the back of my head that Silas couldn't see
me... '

     He punched the pack to test its bindings, a bit harder than he needed to.
Matilda turned her head to look at her owner and stamped one hoof in what Will
knew was mild irritation. He reached to scratch behind her ears contritely and
murmured an apology. But Will continued thinking about Mayati.

     'Silas has been my pardner for a year and all I know about this heron man
is his name and what I saw in my medicine dream. But when he looks at me I
almost forget Silas. I feel so... unfaithful... '

     Will shot a covert glance at Mayati. He, Red Hand and Asa, who seemed to
have picked up the Elxa's language, were speaking together quietly. The sound
of their voices speaking the sibilant tongue was oddly pleasant to hear, like
a kind of music.

     'Mayati's handsome as hell, and then some. And he might want me as much
as I want him. But he ain't comin' between me and Silas.'

     With that determination, Will tried to put Mayati and the confusing
feelings he evoked in a leakproof box somewhere in his mind and sealed it
shut. He could deal with those issues later. For the moment, the concerns of
the present, Silas' needs, were more than enough to occupy him fully.

     After helping Silas down, he unloaded Matilda and let her and Daisy wade
away into the knee-high grass of the great upland meadow to graze. Will then
sat down with Silas in the shade of a nearby tree. He pulled his partner
close, so Silas' bandaged head rested on Will's shoulder.

     "Will?" Silas breathed contentedly.

     "Yes? Do you need anything?" asked Will a bit anxiously. He was still
feeling somewhat guilty about kissing Mayati and wanted to make it up to
Silas.

     "I need you," the prospector replied, a fierce hiss as he hugged Will.
"I want to make love to you, pardner, in the grass and the sunshine, now,
somewhere away from them strangers. I don't want 'em to see us."

     "Neither would I," Will agreed. "Wait here just a moment and I'll be
right back."

     Will reluctantly untangled himself from Silas' embrace and got up to go
over to the trio, who were still talking. They paused when Will reached them.
Asa smiled in greeting, but the natives' faces were masks of stony
impassivity, telling Will nothing of their inner feelings.

     "We will all camp here tonight," Mayati announced, without a preamble.
"You need do nothing, Will. Stay with your partner and we will build a fire
and prepare food for us all." The native gestured towards the nearby pool. "If
you wish to wash, you'll find the water to be quite warm."

     "Oh?"

     "Yes, Will," Red Hand began, "there are many hot springs throughout the
valley of the heron, and one of them feeds into that pond."

     "Thanks, Silas and I will want to wash before supper." Will glanced
briefly at the pack animals. "You don't have to worry about our mules. They're
good critters, they won't go far. For now, I'll take Silas over into the field
yonder for a spell," Will indicated with a wave of his hand that he hoped
appeared casual. "He... just wants to be alone with me."

     "Of course. Take your time. We will see to the camp and be ready when you
and your lover are."

     The gentle, worldly-wise, and knowing way in which Mayati had softly
answered, as if he had matter-of-factly come out and bluntly given Will
permission to go and have sex with Silas, brought another blush to Will's
cheeks and he turned from the trio in mortified confusion. Collecting Silas
and a couple of blankets, Will fairly fled from the campsite. He did not have
to go far to find a perfect spot, obscured from his fellow travelers' view by
a low ridge dotted with wildflowers.

     He spread out the blankets and then turned in time to see Silas dropping
his shirt in a patch of lupines, a burst of blue amid the long mountain grass.
Will looked at them, and the other blooms nearby, the big heads of red-purple
clover, waxy white soapweed and vibrant yellow buttercups, feeling sadness
again for Silas, who couldn't enjoy their beauty. Then a thought occurred to
him and he picked one.

     "Here," he said, holding the blossom close to Silas' nose. "Smell this."

     Silas reached up and found Will's hand. "Hmm... nice."

     "We're surrounded by them," whispered Will, sliding his free hand across
Silas' warm, red-furred chest.

     Silas smiled before kicking off his boots and unbuttoning his pants. Will
watched as the discarded garments fell into a loose pile, leaving his lover
magnificently naked. Driller swung high and free from the prospector's fiery
crotch and the hairs on the rest of his body gleamed and glinted like spun
copper in the sunlight.

     Will undressed in a daze of anticipation as Silas felt for the blankets
and knelt. Silas turned his bandaged eyes in the direction of the sounds his
partner was making as he hurriedly stripped, the popping of buttons and the
rustling of denim fabric. Then he could feel the heat of Will's naked body as
he came close to stand before him, his hands falling lightly to rest on Silas'
shoulders.

     "Let me... " Silas whispered, pleading quietly as he reached out to find
Logger, hard and ready. The prospector guided its rigid heat to his lips.
"Like this... "

     Will groaned aloud as his lover's tongue fell easily into a delicious,
coaxing rhythm he knew well. Silas was eager and so was Will. Will's hands
found the back of Silas' head and dug into the long crimson hair, gripping,
gripping for sheer life, as his life moved slickly within Silas.

     At the same time Will felt questing fingers sinking into his backside in
a blind search for the prostate, one seeker going home, and then another,
opening him up, finding and pressing the soft button of flesh within Will, the
firespot that summoned sensations only males could partake of... The trapper's
body suddenly stiffened and trembled in a beautiful, brittle moment of time.
Silas' nose was crushed against a wiry mass of brown crotch hair, full of
Will's scent, the prospector's mouth full of Will's solid manhood, trembling
on the very verge of sweet, cataclysmic release...

     The edge...

     Over...

     Blue lightning flashed, striking rich dark brown warm earth, throwing up
an unexpected spray of sapphire and turquoise and lapis lazuli and more,
glittering blue fragments, showing every shade and hue of that color, arcing,
against the azure sky, and then falling, a sparkling blue rain, falling, into
the tall grass, falling, forever falling...

* * *

     When Will opened his eyes again, he found himself lying prone on the
blanket with his head cradled in Silas' lap. His thoughts were confused as his
lover's hands moved, mechanically stroking his hair and face silently. When
Silas felt Will's eyes were open, the prospector spoke in a quiet, concerned
tone.

     "Are you okay?"

     "I think so," Will managed.

     "You sure?"

     "Uh-huh. What happened?"

     "You fainted, I think."

     "Really?"

     "You just plumb fell over like a chopped down tree into my arms, after
you shot off. I thought I was gonna drown, 'cause Logger pumped what felt like
a quart of your seed down my throat!" confided Silas.

     "Huh!"

     "You never did anything like that before."

     "You were never that good before," Will said, kissing a finger that
trailed tentatively across his lips.

     "You scared me."

     "I'm sorry."

     "Will, I'm afraid."

     "Of what?"

     "Of bein' left alone with them strangers."

     "They won't hurt you, my love."

     "Do you have to leave me tomorrow?"

     "Falling Star is waitin' for me."

     "Would you stay with me if I asked you to, Will?"

     "Of course," he murmured in reply. "Are you askin' me to?"

     Silas' response was to slide a hand across Will's chest, finding and
fingering the Elxa glyphstone his partner wore.

     "This means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

     "Yes," Will confessed. "But nowhere near as much as you do."

     Silas sighed in resignation.

     "Go and see Falling Star," he said finally. "Try and find whatever it is
you're lookin' for, but please come back to me as soon as you can, my love,
soon... "

     "Yes, I will. I promise. And thank you."

     Will reached up and guided Silas' lips to his, a timeless kiss lasting
many heartbeats, and many lifetimes as well...

     "Would you like to hear a poem I just made up in your honor?" Will asked.

     "Like the one Red Hand did?"

     "His poem was for the both of us. This one's just for you."

Your desire,
always watchin' me,
always stalkin' me,
always hungry like
the wolf in winter,
a wolf with fur
as bright as fire...

I'm helpless
when he strikes;
he takes me,
consumes me,
all of me,
all...

     "Gawd, Will," Silas breathed after a few moments. "That was... do I
really make you feel that way?"

     "You know you do. I just never expressed it like that before."

     "Will?"

     "Yeah?"

     "Will we have to take Injun names once we join the Elxa tribe?"

     "I don't know. Probably. Why?"

     "I want to be known as Fire Wolf then, so I'll always be reminded of the
first love song you sang to me."

     "Ahh... Well then, to be fair, I really ought to let you name me."

     "Lemme think about it."

     Will relaxed, utterly at ease, realizing slowly that Driller was coiled
up under his head, plump and warm.

     "Silas, I didn't do anything for you," he began guiltily. "Do you want me
to... "

     "Hush. I'm composin'," Silas whispered, stroking Will's hair. "We've got
all night to play. And since I won't be seein' you for awhile hereafter, I
intend on takin' you ten ways from Sunday tonight, so's I can live on the
memory of it 'til you come back to me."

     Will took a breath, but did not respond verbally. Logger however spoke
for him, giving an eloquent expression of desire. It twitched at Silas' words
and began to swell.

     "All you have to do is speak to me, pardner, and I get hard," Will
grinned.

     Silas reached and felt for himself, wondering.

     "Can you wait?"

     "Yes, my love... "

     "Good, 'cause I think I got that poem for you," Silas breathed, reaching
to stoke Will's hairy chest with his hands as he declaimed in a soft voice.

My man,
how do you make me feel?

Tall as a redwood,
wide as the sky,
deep as a vein of gold,
burrowin' through rock,
down, down...

The wilderness walks with you,
light as a catamount's step;
tree sap runs in your veins;
your breath is the south wind,
warm and sweet...

And with you,
my Will,
my trapper man,
at my side,
I know,
I can do anything...

     "Silas... " Will managed, before his voice failed and he found he could
not go on.

     Wondering why his partner was shaking, Silas reached to touch his lover's
face and felt a sudden wetness under his fingers. He realized Will was crying.

     "Hush, hush," he crooned.

     "I can't help it," Will sobbed. "What you said... it was too beautiful. I
never really knew how deeply you felt about me, 'til now... "

     He turned his head and cried for awhile into Silas' thigh, gasping for
breath as his hot tears ran, wetting Driller.

     "It's not just the poem, is it?" Silas asked softly.

     "No. I wanted to cry like this when... I found out you was blind, but
there wasn't time... I couldn't cry my soul out... and take care of you at the
same time... And I have to cry, my Silas, my love... 'cause you were hurt and
I was scared I'd lose you... " Will explained between sobs.

     "Let it all out now then, pardner," Silas whispered. "Now, while I hold
you close."

     Eventually, Will regained his composure. He got up, drying his face and
blowing his nose on a bright red bandana before throwing it back onto the
men's crumpled pile of clothes. He glanced briefly at the sky before lying
down again, next to Silas.

     "It really was a beautiful poem," he sniffed as their limbs entwined
about each other's bodies like ivy.

     "Well, it was either beginner's luck, or some mighty powerful inspirin',"
smiled Silas.

     "When anyone asks," Will whispered in Silas' ear. "I'll say my name is
Southwind."

     Silas shuddered as a gout of blood shot into Driller suddenly and the
organ jerked upwards. Wordlessly, Will went down on him. Through the
suctioning sensations stimulating his cock and dazing his brain, Silas could
hear the slurping noises, feel the long, soft hairs of Will's beard brushing
his ballsac, prickling his inner thighs...

     When it came, Silas' orgasm was a primal thing, seemingly coming from
somewhere far, far below him, shooting up violently out of the earth's molten
heart, channeling erupting lava the color of the setting sun through his body,
his cock. High into an infinitely blue sky it seemed to spout, a hot, red
plume, shot through with shards of sparkling ruby and dull cinnabar and ruddy
porphyry...

* * *

     "...and that's why I'm here."

     Mayati looked in wonder from Asa to Red Hand and back again, after Asa
had finished his story. "This is a great power you have been granted," he
replied softly.

     "It's more like a curse," Asa protested. "I can't touch anyone without
visions filling my head. I didn't ask for this to happen to me, and I hope
Falling Star can help me control it, if not get rid of it."

     "Would you show me my future?"

     "After what I saw when I touched Silas, I'm not sure I should."

     "Fear is a disease, Sees Far," Red Hand murmured softly. "And its cure is
in defiance of whatever causes us fear. Do as our brother Mayati asks, and do
not be afraid."

     After a moment, Asa nodded in agreement and pulled off his right glove.
He took a deep breath and grasped Mayati's hand. Again Asa's mind was flooded
with disjointed images.

     He saw Silas' bandaged face. Then, a campsite by a wide, green creek.
Another man's face, bearded, but with an oriental cast to it appeared. As Asa
studied the stranger, he began to hear the magical sound of two flutes playing
in perfect unison. It was beautiful, but it seemed more than mere music. It
was a sort of musical incantation, a wordless summoning, a dulcet calling out
to a mystery that constantly hovered close to the tribe of the heron men, as
close as a lover's body is to his mate's when they make love.

     Abruptly, this unknown found a way to bridge the gap between it and the
heron men. A flash of uncanny energy came from some alternate universe,
answering the flutes' call, sending waves of something good and profound and
undeniable rolling through Asa's man-loving male heart, expanding it, filling
it with an ineffable, essential power. Love.

     "Oh!" Asa exclaimed in surprise, letting go of Mayati when he felt the
burst of what could only be described as love-energy in his heart.

     "What did you see?" asked Red Hand.

     Asa told them, but faltered as he tried to describe the last sensation.
It was hard, for he had never felt anything like it before, an experience
beyond his comprehension. His listeners were puzzled as well, but also
intrigued.

     "The legends of the Elxa speak of something like this, I think," began
Red Hand. He looked at Mayati. "Do you recall the stories that speak of Blue
Badger?"

     "Why, yes," Mayati said as his face became thoughtful.

     "Who was Blue Badger?" asked Asa.

     "He was a chief shaman of the Elxa, who died almost a century ago,"
Red Hand explained. "Long before that, before our tribe was led from its
ancient refuge in La Grande Vallee to the valley of the heron. Blue Badger
was the youngest of three brothers who joined our tribe at the same time,
and he was gifted with a natural, powerful insight into the ways of the
spirit world. After a lifetime of living with the Elxa and studying our
ways, it is said he discovered a powerful love-magic, which in theory
could be conjured by the physical love of any two heart-connected men.

     "Blue Badger and his lovers are said to have achieved this. As they
made love, they could send out a wave of erotic energy that was palpably
felt by other man-loving men. This energy could heal minds and bodies,
have a real and undeniable effect on the physical world. But Blue Badger
was a very old man when he achieved this ability. Before he could fully
teach the technique to his brother tribesmen, he died.

     "Of course, Blue Badger continued to interact with his living brothers
through medicine dreams. But, as he explained to those he contacted, the
power he identified could only be summoned by living men. Spirits, it
seemed, lacked the essential 'ground' that physical form granted. Though
many have tried, none has reproduced Blue Badger's unique ability to focus
his mind on the primal source of manlove, where he claimed this power
emanated from." Red Hand's eyes came back to Mayati. "Perhaps you are
fated to rediscover this mystery, my brother."

     Mayati nodded and smiled wryly as he reached for his bow and quiver of
arrows. "It may indeed be as you say, my father," he smiled as he toyed with
the dusty blue featherings on his arrows, "but for now, I hope I am fated to
discover fresh meat for us to eat this evening!"

* * *

     Will and Silas dozed in the sun together, until cool, lengthening shadows
reached across the field to touch their naked forms, prodding them to awaken.
Reluctantly, Will donned his clothing and went to collect their mules, to
tether them near camp for the night. After seeing to Daisy and Matilda, he
returned to Silas.

     Silas had just finished dressing and was pulling on his boots. Will
rolled up their blankets and, shouldering the burden, took Silas' outstretched
hand to lead him back to the camp. Just as the men had been promised, their
fellow travelers had made everything ready for the group's overnight stay.

     A fire burned brightly amid their gear. A stone's throw away, the creek
that flowed down to Roman Rock broadened into a gently swirling pool. They
could hear the overflow from it hurling itself over the edge of an unseen
dropoff and racing away into deeper twilight.

     Pausing briefly to get some soap out of his pack, Will steered Silas
towards the water, suggesting they get washed up. Silas agreed and soon the
pair's clothing were once again in a mingled heap as Will led his lover into
the warm pool. Silas sighed contentedly as he sank down to sit in a spot that
allowed the water to lap deliciously at his bearded chin.

     "It's too bad our crick-pool ain't heated like this," he began. "I could
get used to washin' everyday."

     "I agree," said Will, enjoying the water himself.

     He sat next to his partner and they scrubbed each other's bodies clean.
The close contact provoked both men's cocks to get hard once more, but Silas
wanted to wait until they turned in before playing again. When they got out,
they pressed the water off their skins with the flats of their hands, then
dressed and moved towards the fire. Asa passed them as he was going to wash
himself.

     "How's the water?" he asked, alerting Silas to his presence.

     "Fine," Silas returned. Then, to Will, he whispered. "Too bad he didn't
get in earlier. We could've washed his back for him!"

     "And I thought you didn't like strangers," chuckled Will.

     "Well," Silas snorted, "not when I know they like the same things we do!"

     As they approached the firepit, Will looked at the structure he had
noticed before in the camp. The simple lean-to consisted of a wooden frame
that looked sort of like a prism, with a covering of animal skins to ward off
the elements. The space was occupied.

     Will noted with a confused feeling - an odd mix of irritation, relief,
and disappointment - that Mayati had spread his blankets out along with Asa's
and Red Hand's, within the native shelter. He followed suit, choosing a spot
directly opposite them, just beyond the edge of the firelight, cloaked in
shadows. Silas lifted his head and sniffed at the richly scented air as his
lover arranged their bed for the coming night.

     "What's cookin'?" he asked, smelling the odor of roasting meat mingled
temptingly with the sharp tang of wood smoke.

     "Let's find out."

     Mayati was squatting by the fire, turning hunks of meat impaled on wooden
skewers. Juices dripped and sizzled on the coals, producing the smoke that had
attracted Silas. The Elxa brave smiled a greeting at Will and Silas, motioning
for them to sit down. Will guided Silas as he sank easily into a crosslegged
position, and Will sat between him and Mayati.

     "Where's Red Hand?" he asked, looking about the camp.

     "He is resting," the heron man replied as he drew a frying pan full of
biscuits away from the fire.

     Will turned his head, looking into the shelter again. This time, he saw
Red Hand, wrapped in his blankets. Will frowned to himself.

     He figured he had not noticed Red Hand's presence earlier because of the
distracting emotions evoked by the sight of Mayati's bedroll combined with
another man's. Will really did not want to think about those feelings just
then. Happily, he was distracted at that moment by the sight of Asa's nude
body.

     The man was returning from the pool, holding his clothing draped over one
arm as he returned to the lean-to. A generous growth of black hairs covered
his tautly muscled body, tangling across his pale skinned chest and encircling
his tight, pink nipples. Added to that was a tasty-looking set of genitals
that swayed heavily between his legs as he approached.

     Will found himself reassessing his earlier appraisal of the man. It was
no secret that backwoodsmen and townsmen traditionally held one another in
mutual contempt. But Asa had seemed a genial enough traveling companion, and
what Will saw then caused his old hunger for manflesh to rise within him. Will
watched as Asa donned his jeans, his cock and balls dangling temptingly, the
perfect man-lover bait, as he lifted one leg to insert it down a pantleg. The
sound of Mayati's voice snapped Will's attention rudely back to his other
companions.

     "You are just in time, Sees Far," the heron man called, offering a
biscuit and a meat-laden skewer to Will, who passed them promptly on to his
partner.

     Silas blew on the smoking gobbet of animal flesh and took a bite just as
Asa joined them, clad in just his jeans, to received his share. He thanked
Mayati with a kiss before addressing himself to his food. The meat was shot
through with fat and coated their mouths pleasantly with its taste as they
chewed. Silas recognized the taste of venison.

     "It's good," Asa said for them all.

     "I didn't hear a shot," commented Silas.

     "Yes. I did not want to disturb you or your partner, so I used my bow and
arrows," Mayati explained.

     The skin of Silas' face that showed above and below his bandage turned
pure crimson as he realized Mayati was referring to the frenetic lovemaking he
and Will had engaged in all afternoon. He hurriedly took another bite of his
meal. Both Asa and Will however had noticed. Asa managed to cough to hide his
laughter while Will just grinned. He squeezed his partner's shoulder
affectionately to reassure him before turning his attention back to his
portion of the savory dinner.

     "What about... " Will began with a full mouth, jerking his head towards
where Red Hand was resting.

     "He will join us when he is ready, my friend. He knows we will not eat it
all."

     Mayati flashed a smile at Will, showing teeth like pearls. Then he sank
them into a sizzling hunk of meat, seemingly oblivious to its temperature.
Will wondered and took another bite.

     However much Mayati intrigued him, Will did not forget to keep an eye on
Silas, passing his partner more meat and biscuits as the prospector denuded
his spits industriously. No one seemed inclined to break the silence as they
ate. But when Silas finished his third helping, Mayati at last spoke up.

     "It is good that your appetite is strong, Silas," he said, drawing the
name out so that it sounded like 'cy-lasss'. "It means you will heal quickly."

     "I hope," he answered, licking the grease off his fingers.

     "It will be as Mayati says," Red Hand said with calm certitude, as the
heron elder suddenly appeared next to his fellow tribesman, and withdrew a
speared, charred lump of venison from the fire. "Have you sung any songs yet?"

     Mayati glanced at Will and Silas, letting the men know that Red Hand's
question was meant for them. Will bent closer and whispered in his partner's
ear. When Silas nodded his assent, Will turned back to Red Hand.

     "Yes, we sang our first songs to each other this afternoon. Would you
like to hear them?"

     "Very much."

     Will went first and then Silas followed him. Then Red Hand repeated the
song he had sung as they traveled to the camp. Frank approval shone on
Mayati's face.

     "I see I must sing for all of you now, as you have sung for me."

Well met at the fork of the trail,
We enjoy our company,
Our food, our songs,
Happy now,
But tomorrow's separations loom...

Fire Wolf west,
Southwind east...

Already I feel the sadness,
Of two men one heart parted,
One heart halved,
And I weep, I weep...

     Asa took a breath. "Well, I can't beat that."

     "Do not mind, my friend, you will learn how to sing," Red Hand reassured
Asa. Then he looked at all three of the white men. "Perhaps I should tell you
all now of a custom we Elxa have, though it is not a hard rule. Many of us use
our tribal names rather than our real names, except between mated men. It is a
way we have of honoring the bonds of love between couples. So, from now on, do
not be surprised if most of the heron men you meet will call you Sees Far or
Southwind or Fire Wolf."

     "Okay," Silas agreed easily as he reached over and ran his hand down
Will's back. Will responded by kissing his lover before turning so he could
lay his head in Silas' lap. Silas began amusing himself by dropping bits of
his last biscuit into Will's open mouth.

     Because he could not see what he was doing, Silas missed often, and
Will's dark beard was soon full of white crumbs. Their audience watched this
exhibition with something like amused incredulity lining their faces as they
continued eating. Finishing, they arose and began to clear away the remains of
the meal.

     "Let's wash up and go to bed," Silas suggested.

     "Yes," agreed Will as he sat up, sending a shower of white bits to the
ground.

     "I hope you're ready for me, pardner," Silas whispered as Will helped him
up and began to steer him towards the nearby pool.

     Silas could feel Will tremble in reply, imagining the night ahead, and
the prospector leaned into his partner as they walked away from the fire. From
somewhere in the gathering darkness behind them a flute began to play. After
only a few notes of the haunting tune, Will realized it was the magical music
he had heard in his medicine vision, the song of the heron.

* * *

     Will woke up the next morning feeling more than a bit dazed. His dreams,
or rather what he could remember of them, had been wild and kaleidoscopic. He
had seen visions redolent of remote, blazing stars and deep, warm caverns,
running fire and wind in the trees.

     With his eyes still closed, Will tried to make sense of them. But his
concentration was distracted by something he could not ignore. An odd,
stirring sensation in his beard, as if some small animal had taken up
residence there.

     "Umm... ?"

     Opening his eyes, Will saw his partner's bandaged face hovering mere
inches above his own. He also saw a foglike mist floating all around,
diffusing the morning light. He soon saw the source. The surface of the nearby
pond seemed to smoke as ghostly vapors rose into the cool morning air.

     "Good morning, handsome," purred Silas.

     "Iffin' you could see me," Will said, raking his hand through tousled
hair, "you might use a different word to describe my looks."

     "Naw I wouldn't. How do you feel?"

     "Hungry."

     "I'm not surprised, after last night."

     Will smiled as he remembered Silas' passion and stretched. They were
pressed warmly together and as he moved, he enjoyed the feel of his skin
rubbing against his partner's naked body, the friction of their body fur
meshing. Then he yawned fiercely.

     "You ready for some breakfast, pardner?" Will asked at length.

     "I already ate," Silas grinned slyly. "I've been fishin' biscuit crumbs
out of your beard with my tongue for some time now."

     "Well, that might give a new meanin' to 'breakfast-in-bed', but it ain't
doin' anything for my stomach."

     "Maybe we ought to wash up first."

     "Good idea."

     As Will agreed, he sat up and looked towards the campfire. Through the
thin haze he saw Red Hand was kneeling beside it, putting more wood on the
fire, preparing to warm up the leftovers from yesterday. Just the thought of
food made Will's mouth water.

     "Deer for breakfast!" cried Will happily.

     He jumped up and turned to give Silas his hand. The prospector took it
and rose. Red Hand looked up from his task and smiled a good morning at the
two naked men.

     They returned the greeting, went to wash again in the warm pond, then
returned to don their clothes. When Silas was ready, Will led him to the
campfire. Red Hand was waiting for them.

     "I will change your bandage now, Silas, if Will stays here to keep the
meat from burning."

     "Of course," Will answered.

     Will took the heron elder's place by the fire, watching as Red Hand and
Silas moved back towards the water. The trapper turned the skewers over the
flames a few times, but could not wait and lifted one out. The hunk of meat it
impaled had been barely warmed by the fire and the congealed fat melted
pleasantly on the man's tongue as he chewed.

     "Good morning."

     Will abruptly swung his head around to see Mayati, so fast that he almost
choked on his breakfast. The heron man was barely clad in scanty native garb
and Will hungrily took in the handsome, powerful litheness of his coppery
body. His skin shone as the morning sunlight grew stronger and pierced the fog
hanging over the camp,

     As the newcomer squatted easily next to him. Will wondered if there was
any conceivable way Mayati could have known of the vision he had experienced
three nights before. Of his spirit visit to the home of Falling Star, the cave
of mysteries. And the part the image of Mayati had played in it.

     "Morning. Umm... was that you last night, playin' the flute?" he asked,
hoping he sounded casual.

     "Yes," replied Mayati. "Did you enjoy my song?"

     "Yes, very much so. Silas too," Will sighed, remembering how the eerie,
almost seductive music had somehow deepened himself and his partner into each
other as they made love.

     "It is strange," the heron man murmured as he took a half-warmed chunk of
meat from the fire. "I had not met you before yesterday, but I somehow knew
you would find the music I make beautiful."

     "Only one whose nature is the same as yours could hear its beauty," Will
ventured.

     As he paraphrased the words he had heard in his medicine dream, Will
watched for a reaction from his companion. Mayati looked at Will suddenly,
with something like surprise playing in his dark eyes. But instead of replying
at once, he took another bite of his breakfast and composed himself as he
chewed.

     "I think," he said at last, swallowing, "that you seem very wise, for a
white man. Perhaps, the next time you hear my music, you will follow it and
come to me... "

     "I'd like that, Mayati, very much."

     As he spoke, Will reached over and lightly touched the small of Mayati's
back, just above the cord of his breechclout. He stirred the sparse growth of
soft, fine hairs that grew there, with his fingertips. The native trembled
slightly, moved by some inner emotion, and gave a barely audible sigh in
response before he resumed eating.

     In that moment the connection Will had with Mayati felt good and right.
Feeling fine, the trapper turned his head and looked towards the edge of the
pool where Red Hand was still tending to Silas' eyes. The good feeling was
replaced by a vague worry.

     It occurred to Will that the guilt he had felt about his attraction to
Mayati the other day was gone. The realization concerned him. Was this the
beginning of a change in his feelings towards Silas?

     "Good morning, guys," Asa said, interrupting the worrying thoughts that
were flying through Will's mind. The townsman came up to the fire and helped
himself to some leftovers.

     Will started and pulled his hand away from Mayati's back. Had Asa seen
the intimate touching? "Goo... good morning," he managed.

     But even as Mayati smiled and nodded companionably at Asa, seemingly
unconcerned by what anyone might have seen passing between himself and Will,
Silas and Red Hand arose to return to the fire. Will watched them coming and
realized with not a little relief that he still felt the same for his partner.
Nothing but love and desire stirred in his heart as he watched Silas approach,
noting his bearing, the way he moved. Will abruptly felt something inside of
himself demanding to speak...

     "I hope you all left me something to eat, 'cause I'm hungry!" announced
Silas as he was guided to Will's side and sat down.

     "Here," Will obliged, handing him a skewer of smoking meat. "Would you
like to hear another poem?"

     "For me?"

     "Of course for you," Will smiled.

Everything I see in you,
The way you stand,
The way you walk,
The way you ride,
The way you hold me,
Your every expression,
The casual way
You shrug your shoulders,
Reassures me,
Tells me,
I'm your man.

     Silas attempted and failed to say something through a mouthful of food,
but his listeners could not make it out. At last he swallowed and tried again,
muttering out, "Damn right, you are," before kissing Will. Will could swear
that the molten deer fat on his lover's lips tasted sweeter somehow, as if it
had absorbed some of Silas' essence.

     "Well then, I guess I ought to tell you the one I've got for you," Silas
declared.

Whose hands are these?
Yours

Whose heart beats here?
Yours

Whose soul is this sick with love?
Yours
All Yours

I give all I have to you,
Freely, proudly, completely.
I have nothing that ain't yours.

     "Silas I feel... "

     "Don't spoil it by talkin'," he said, silencing Will with another loving
kiss.

     "It is as Nizano says," Mayati began. "Words sometimes mislead and
distract us"

     "Indeed, that which is really important is often impossible to express
verbally," agreed Red Hand. "It is not at all unusual for you to think as your
Elxa brothers do, Fire Wolf, for people of similar natures can be expected to
have similar thoughts. Now I have another song, for you both."

Two men, one heart,
To you I say:
Play like children,
Love like men,
Live in the Way of the Heron,
And be happy always.

     Will and Silas half expected to hear Mayati recite something next. But
the handsome heron man merely tossed his empty spit on the dying fire and
stood up. He looked pointedly upward at the morning sun, which had almost
succeeded in burning away all of the light fog that encompassed the area.

     "I fear there is no more time to sing. The sun does not wait on us and we
have far to go."

     "Yes," Red Hand added. "Southwind, Sees Far, I will guide you both to
Falling Star's home, the cave of mysteries, and Mayati will take Fire Wolf and
the mules to Roman Rock, to wait for our return."

     Soon, Will was helping Silas up on Daisy's back. They had said their
goodbyes, but Will kept ahold of Silas' hand. Silas leaned down for one last
kiss.

     "I'll be waitin' for you, pardner... "

     "I'll come back to you, Silas. Nothing'll stop me."

     "I know. Now get on with you."

     Mayati tugged on the reins and the mules started moving. The lovers'
hands were pulled apart and Will stood watching until Silas and his guide both
disappeared into the woods lining the stream. Red Hand reached up and squeezed
Will's shoulder.

     "It is time to go, my son."

     "Yes," Will agreed, responding with a sigh. Shouldering his rifle and
pack, he turned to follow Asa and Red Hand.

* * *

     Silence dominated Silas and Mayati's journey to Roman Rock. Mayati's
thoughts were his own. The heron man was unaccustomed to making small talk.
But not knowing that, Silas felt a bit uncomfortable. Nevertheless, the
prospector could think of little to say.

     Mayati held the reins of Silas' mount, Daisy, as they walked, with
Matilda trailing along behind. They stopped only when they needed to, for the
midday meal or to answer the call of nature, but they did not hurry. As the
sun slipped behind the horizon, Mayati found a campsite, one of many the Elxa
had established along the trail for travelers, and they prepared for the
coming of night.

     Soon, Silas was sitting beside the heron man before a fire, eating the
last of the deer Mayati had killed the previous day. Silas had no idea what
the sleeping arrangements were, but part of him wanted the heron man to sleep
with him, for security's sake. Once they removed their clothing, Mayati guided
him to his blankets and Silas felt a thrill of relief as his guide slid in
next to him.

     "Mayati?"

     "Yes."

     "I'm sorry I've been so quiet. Can't think of anything to say, I guess."

     "You do not have to speak."

     "I just didn't want you to think I didn't like you or anything."

     "I did not think that."

     Silas heard three measured breaths beside him before the heron man spoke
again.

     "It is only natural you should be... withdrawn? Is that the right English
word? Sometimes I use them wrongly."

     "That's close enough," Silas replied.

     "After all, you are relying on strangers you cannot see for your food,
your safety... "

     "I'll admit it's a little scary."

     "You are safe here with me."

     "I know. I'm glad to be here with you, Mayati. I trust you. At first I
did 'cause Will told me I could, but I think I know you better now."

     "Was it anything in particular that made you trust me? Something you
noticed?"

     "Well, it's like I can hear something special when you move, I don't know
what. Not like your joints creakin'... "

     Mayati allowed himself a small, amused smile.

     " ...but, well, music. Sounds silly, don't it?"

     In answer, Silas felt movement next to him. Mayati sat up crosslegged on
the blankets, and reached to rummage in the small backpack he carried. After a
few moments, Silas heard the first plaintive notes of a flute.

     The tune was different from the one he had heard the night before. But it
was just as strangely, elusively familiar. Somehow, it evoked old, sweet
memories.

     The music drew Silas' mind back to his boyhood in the hills of eastern
Kentucky. He pictured the area around his family's isolated homestead and how
he had played there, running barefoot with his brother Jesse through the woods
in the summertime, two young feral things reveling in life.

     He remembered them both tossing off their clothes beside warm swimming
holes and diving in to play games prompted by the innocent curiosity of youth.
The gentle touches he had exchanged with his brother in the water, the feel of
their wet skins moving against each other's urgently, seeking release, the
shattering climaxes, and the wonderful, sweaty, gooey aftermath... They were
explorers, learning what pleasures their bodies were capable of giving
themselves, of giving each other...

     'That's what the heron way is like,' Silas thought, as the song ended.
'These men haven't forgotten how to play innocently, without expectations,
like when we was kids.'

     "Did you like my song?" Mayati asked.

     "Yes, very much," answered Silas as the native slipped back between their
blankets. "Mayati?"

     "Yes?"

     "Can I cuddle up to you?"

     "Of course you may," he sighed.

     Silas wiggled closer, resting his head on Mayati's shoulder. He felt an
arm come up across his back and rest on his side, just above his hip,
protectively. The heron man's skin smelt like the wind in the trees and moist
clean earth. Silas relaxed and sleep overcame him quickly.

* * *

     At first, Silas was puzzled. The scene before him looked familiar. He
stood before a gentle bend in a creek, where some big, weathered rocks defined
a pool.

     Around it, tall oaks, laurels and sassafras trees overshadowed the
rippling waters. Johnny jump-ups, orchid ladyslippers and Jack-in-the-pulpits
grew in the moist, sheltering shadows of the big trees. It was gorgeous, but
all Silas could see belonged to the world of his youth, a time long since
passed, gone and lost.

     Then he noticed another person there. A redheaded man with a bushy
moustache was leaning easily against a big myrtle tree nearby. He was dressed
in a confederate soldier's uniform. Silas recognized him at once and gaped in
amazement.

     "Hello, little brother," the man smiled.

     "Jesse! But how... how can you be here? I... I thought you was... "

     "Dead? I found out there ain't no such thing."

     "Did... did you go to heaven?"

     "I think I'm there right now," he said, stepping forward to hug Silas
happily. "How've you been?"

     "Well, I can't complain, exceptin' for this accident I had, puttin' my
eyes out... Hey! I just realized, I can see you!"

     "You're seein' me with the eyes of memory," Jesse murmured, looking
around himself. "So this is what you think of when you remember me. We had a
lot of fun here, as kids."

     "But you grew out of my favorite kind of fun."

     "I was a coward about the way I felt and suppressed it. And now I know
that wasn't right. But no matter what I've done, that don't mean I ever
stopped lovin' you, Silas. You'll always be my little brother, for gosh
sakes!"

     "Jesse, do you know if I'll ever see again? With my real eyes? I know
what Asa told me he saw, but... "

     "Don't worry. Stick with these heron fellas and they'll have you right as
rain in no time."

     "Thanks. I never was any good at takin' things on faith, but if you and
Will both want me to trust 'em, then I guess I have to."

     "You always was a suspicious, contrary cuss," Jesse chuckled.

     Silas just hugged his brother tighter in reply. He could smell the
unforgettable odor of battle, gunsmoke and sweat and dirt, clinging to the
fabric of Jesse's uniform. His hand went to a small tear, the one made by the
bullet that he knew had killed Jesse, as Silas remembered, but beneath it lay
only unscarred, warm flesh.

     "Hey, don't poke your finger in there like that, it tickles!"

     "I just can't hardly believe its you, that's all."

     Jesse stepped back and took off his shirt.

     "Whatcha doin'?"

     "Goin' in for a swim. Wanna join me?"

     "I wanna, but I think I'd bust, bein' nekkid and so close to you and not
touchin'."

     Jesse merely grinned in reply and, kicking off his boots and skinning off
his pants, turned and dove in. Silas hesitated for a few moments on the shore,
watching his brother's naked body again after so long. It was so much like his
own, with almost the same build and shade of body fur, now wet and plastered
against the pale, faintly freckled skin. But soon the prospector shrugged,
shucked his clothes and followed.

     "Hell, it can't be nothing but a dream," Silas reasoned, muttering to
himself distractedly as he slipped into the warm water. "Might as well enjoy
it."

     Silas tried to swim in a nonchalant manner. But Driller was hard and
aching to be touched, distracting him. Jesse swam to one particular rock Silas
remembered well, broad and flat, mossy soft and sloping gently into the water,
perfect for the kind of games they had once played together as boys.

     Jesse stretched himself out on his back and patted the space next to him
invitingly, his wet hand flattening the velvety green growth. Then he held out
his arms to Silas. At the same time his spirit wings spread themselves out
splendidly and curled in the prospector's direction as well.

     "One more time?" he asked as Silas spied his erection. "For old time's
sake and 'cause I love you, little brother. Besides, I wouldn't want you to
bust... "

     The strange reality of that dream-place grew even more stronger as Silas
climbed onto the rock and into his brother's arms. His spirit wings appeared
and meshed with those of his brother. New sensations, and an enhancement of
the sexual pleasures Silas always felt with another man, coursed vibrantly
through his body.

     Jesse felt every bit as alive and familiar under his fingers as Silas
remembered from the time when they were kids. But now it was as men that they
came together, knowing hands and lips and bodies moving surely, tenderly
towards an adult sharing of love... And the conclusion tasted of male sweat
and semen, rippling pondwater and floating green leaves...

     "I love you, little brother. I always will. And I'm glad you have someone
like Will to take care of you," Jesse whispered as he held Silas afterwards.
"I'm also glad you've found the heron men. I want you to be happy."

     "I am, Jesse... I am... "

* * *

     " ...Fire Wolf?" a new voice crooned. "Are you awake?"

     Silas realized that his dream, or whatever it had been, was over. He was
still wrapped up in his blankets, cuddled against Mayati. Then he felt a warm
stickiness and realized he had shot off.

     "I guess I am now," he managed.

     "You were having a dream, a very good dream, unless I am mistaken."

     "Actually, it was wonderful."

     "Would you like to tell me about it?"

     "I saw my big brother Jesse. He died years ago in the war, but we talked
and made love... "

     "You have had a medicine dream. When you are well, you will go to see
Falling Star, just as your partner Southwind has. Our shaman will lead you
into the knowledge of the vision's meaning, as well as our ways."

     "I'm sorry about that there mess," Silas began. "Here, lemme clean you
up."

     "You need not... "

     "Hush. I want to."

     Silas dove under the blankets, licking and sucking his musky seed off
Mayati's satiny skin. As he progressed across the heron man's smooth belly,
his nose encountered the moist tip of his bedmate's erect cock. Silas
hesitated only for a moment before going down on the rigid, hotly fragrant
wand of flesh. Mayati's hands slid down to caress Silas' head and stroke his
red hair.

     "You are a beautiful man, Fire Wolf, oh, so beautiful... "

     Mayati helped Silas move so that Driller was available to the heron man's
eager mouth. Silas did not think he could come again so soon, but the native's
warm and experienced tongue felt mighty good on his balls and the shaft of his
cock. Mayati's attentions, much to his surprise, brought the prospector to the
edge again.

     Silas' first shot was answered at once by Mayati. It seemed to Silas that
as the pair came together, they were cycling and recycling the energy of their
orgasms within and around their own bodies. He felt, without knowing how, that
their spirit wings had meshed and were glowing with the numinous power raised
by their strong manlove, becoming a aethereal sphere of potentiality, a
mysterious whirlpool of burgeoning, incomparable, nameless force...

     It was all dark earth and bright fire, steaming water and gusting air,
mingled and spun by the power of their conjoined, loving spirits, all around
their straining bodies. Then the maelstrom of energy seemed to burst outward,
becoming a wave of sentient love spreading out gently and irresistibly into
the outer world. A pulse of aethereal force, seeking to touch and comfort
others who shared the same unique natures as Silas and Mayati possessed.

     It was the ancient power of man-loving male hearts singing with joy
whenever their owners encountered one another in the emotional deserts of a
world that treated manlove as a shameful crime. As they touched and loved,
two men would transform a small part of that wasteland into a garden of
earthly delights, an Eden full of joyous life. And that living spiritual
vitality could not be prevented from reaching out to find and share its
deep and singular jubilation with other man-loving male hearts...

* * *

     Earlier that same day, Red Hand had led the way and his two companions
followed, as they journeyed towards the east. It was not long before they lost
sight of the camp where they met Mayati. In spite of that, Will continued to
glance back from time to time, his thoughts oscillating between his lover and
Mayati, the handsome man he had first met in his dreams. If his companions
noticed the plaintive sighs Will uttered, they gave no sign of it.

     The small party followed Heron Creek's forested course. The land rose
gently as they progressed upstream. The stream twisted and burbled along,
circumnavigating mossy boulders, tree trunks and patches of low scrub and
wildflowers: rabbit brush and squaw currant, avalanche lily and woolly
sunflowers, most of them sheltering in the soft shade of the surrounding
evergreens. Then the travelers came to a small waterfall.

     It marked the first in a series of spots they encountered where the earth
had been thrust upwards, breaking the momentum of the waters. Beyond it was a
pool quite like the one they had camped by the night before. As the men
continued on, Will noted seven more similar sites, upthrusts behind which
silver-green ponds gleamed lambently, along the mountain stream's course like
a string of mystic pearls, before he stopped counting.

     It began to seem to Will that they were moving in ways other than in a
physical sense. As the men pressed further into the lush and beautiful lands
of the Elxa, a feeling of calm and reflection crept over him. It was as if the
trio of travelers had entered a sacred fane.

     They walked across ground that had never been hallowed by a priest of the
smug and intolerant worshippers of the pale, thin man who had died so long ago
in far off Palestine. Yet the land was holy nonetheless. For the valley of the
heron was protected. The land was overseen by forces attuned to the Elxa's
man-loving hearts, forces benevolent and powerful and incredibly ancient.

     Spirits that Will's puritanical New England teachers would have denounced
as pagan and demonic truly dwelt there. But the 'deviltry' of those entities
was measured by such narrow men not so much in terms of good or evil, but by
the mere fact of their existence. Nothing aroused the fury of Jehovah's
minions like competition.

     The history of that intolerant sect had been one constant, bloody crusade
against anyone or anything that might attract the devotion - and the money
offerings - of the masses away from the 'true faith'. Their successes had cost
humankind dearly. 'Sinful' people who had listened to 'other voices' and their
'heretical' writings had been fed to the flames aplenty down through the
crimson centuries, but the primal forces those pagan martyrs honored, like
those that protected the valley of the heron and its inhabitants, were beyond
the reach of Jehovah's fanatical priesthood and its sadly deluded followers.

     Just by their presence in the world these nature spirits rebuked the
monotheistic claptrap peddled by the Bible-wielding churchmen. How laughably
illogical it made their notion of one hairy, thundering, sin-obsessed sky god
seem! A dreadful busybody of a deity who, it was claimed, personally dominated
everything and everyone, with the occasional help of a dead carpenter and a
glowing bird!

     Such concepts seemed ridiculous, sick fantasies in such a place as the
valley of the heron. A place where in each rippling pool, in each shadowed
glen, in each mossy stone, in each uplifted leafy branch, in each spray of
colorful wildflowers, in each pine-scented breeze, in each furtive living
thing, in each distant, icy mountain spire, a numinous power dwelt, an
elemental essence of life that announced itself plainly to any who would pause
and listen and allow themselves to comprehend. Will could feel those forces
all around him as he walked, an elusive certainty playing teasingly at the
peripheries of his senses, friendly and welcoming.

     That the spirits the Elxa honored were real, Will had no doubt. But
theirs was a palpable presence that was felt by the heron men in their
man-loving hearts, rather than as an abstract concept to be contemplated and
philosophized and possibly distilled into a sort of pagan dogma. That aspect
of what Will was feeling was a blessing in disguise, for it helped prevent the
heron men from going down the path that so many organized religions had trod,
tempting unscrupulous priests to invent vile abuses in the name of whatever
god they claimed to honor.

     Time was and yet was not. Though the sun moved, arcing across the azure
sky, Will had a strong feeling of timelessness as they approached the base of
Zoraxte. The unique power native to that place seemed to exude from the rocks,
the trees, the sky, the stream. The trapper could almost feel a living force
running through everything there.

     'And through Red Hand and Asa... and me... ' he realized inwardly.

     When the sun was past its zenith they stopped to rest and eat. Though the
men still had a fair amount of food with them, Red Hand did not pass up the
opportunity of bringing down a wild goose which had the misfortune of crossing
their path. Will and Asa were both impressed by their companion's skill with
the bow.

     Later on that evening, they stopped for the night. The unlucky goose made
an excellent meal, and for dessert there were wild blueberries, fresh from a
patch of bushes the travelers discovered growing conveniently near their
campsite. The men each chose a spot to spread their blankets around the fire
and soon after they turned in, Red Hand lulled his companions with his gentle
snoring.

     But Will found his blankets cold and sleep elusive. Thanks to Silas, Will
had become unaccustomed to sleeping alone. The trapper studied the cloudy sky,
hoping the day's exertions would kick in and let him sleep. A bolt of
lightning flashed, striking a remote ridge of Zoraxte and Will heard Asa
exclaim softly as the distant thunder muttered angrily. Apparently Will was
not the only one having trouble sleeping.

     "You still awake?" Will asked quietly.

     "Yeah," came the whispered reply. "Can't understand why. Between walking
all day and a full belly, I ought to be out like Red Hand."

     Will lifted his head a little and looked over at their guide. From the
sounds he was making, the heron elder was dead to the world. Will stroked his
beard in thought, thinking before he spoke again.

     "Er, Asa, are you cold?"

     "Well, now that you mention it... "

     "We could keep each other warm."

     Will thought he heard a soft chuckle as Asa got up. Quietly, he picked up
his blankets and came over. Will spread his blankets out and Asa's came
floating down to cover them, making a bed for two. Then Asa got in, rolling
into Will's ready arms.

     "Now this is warmer, isn't it?"

     "Sure is," Asa answered, relaxing into Will's embrace. "You're lucky to
have a pardner to keep you warm. You must miss him."

     "Yeah, I do. You have a pardner?"

     "No." replied Asa, running a hand over Will's chest. "Sorry about the
gloves," he added.

     "If Falling Star is as good a medicine man as we've heard, you won't have
to wear them much longer."

     "I hope so," he yawned, cuddling closer.

     "You comfy?"

     "Yeah, I think I can sleep now. That is unless you want to... "

     "Naw, I can wait. But I ought to have told you before now how handsome I
think you are."

     "Shame on you!" Asa grinned. "And you a married man!"

     "I may be married, but I'm not dead!" chuckled Will. Fleetingly he
thought of Silas and Mayati. Surely they were sleeping together somewhere
downstream and Will could not imagine his lover not taking advantage of the
possibilities that situation presented, but he kept those thoughts to himself.
"Now go to sleep Asa. You're gonna need your rest if you wanna play with me
later."

     "Don't make any promises you can't keep, Will," came the snickered reply.

     "Take that," Will gave Asa a quick kiss in 'punishment' for his impudence
before they cuddled up to sleep.

* * *

     "We have arrived, Fire Wolf."

     Silas knew Mayati meant they had reached Roman Rock, the main settlement
of the Elxa tribe. Their unhurried trip from the spot where they had spent the
night took them the better part of the morning. The prospector could feel the
warmth of the almost noon sunlight falling strongly down upon his shoulders as
they came out of the shady coolness of the woods lining the trail that
paralleled Heron Creek. The mules' hooves no longer ground noisily on the
gravelly track, but swished softly along through tall mountain grass.

     The tang of wood smoke tickled Silas' nose and he heard masculine voices
speaking in English as well as the Elxa's native dialect. Then a different
noise came to his ears, sharp and rhythmic. Silas turned his head in its
direction questioningly and clearly caught the sounds of a hammer pounding in
nails. Mayati noticed his companion's interest and explained.

     "That is our brother Tavani," the heron man began. "He is helping his
friend Dark Fire build a new cabin not far away. They are almost finished, I
think."

     "A cabin?" Silas wondered aloud. "Is he another white man?"

     "Yes. He and Dark Fire."

     "Hmm. Er, where do we sleep?"

     "There are two common longhouses and a council hall. I will take you to
the one that is the least crowded."

     "What about your place?"

     "I do not have a home here, Fire Wolf. My lodge is some ways towards the
west, along lower Heron Creek."

     "Oh."

     Daisy came to a halt and Mayati helped Silas off his mule. Silas found
what felt like a fencepost and leaned against it. He heard the gentle snort of
a horse and realized as the animal nuzzled him curiously that he was standing
beside a corral fence.

     "Your mules will be safe here," Mayati said, unburdening and setting
Daisy and Matilda loose in the enclosure.

     "Did that Tavani fella build this here stable too?"

     "He was one of those who helped build it, here behind a barn we raised to
store hay. We knew that more white men would be coming to us, to learn our
ways, and that their horses would need shelter."

     "That's mighty hospitable of you. Is there enough fodder for 'em?"

     "There are several meadows nearby. With a little work, we will have
enough put away for the winter."

     "I wish I could help."

     "I know you would if you could, Fire Wolf. But we have many hands here,
and they will make the work light."

     "Howdy, Mayati," a new voice began happily as it approached. "Well,
willya lookit that! It's another redhead! I'm Tavani... oh... "

     "Howdy yourself," Silas returned.

     As Silas said that, he reached out in the direction of the voice,
figuring Tavani had seen his bandaged eyes. A hand grasped his firmly in
welcome and it took Silas a moment or two to realize why the handshake felt
wrong - the index finger of the man's right hand was gone. Tavani's grip
bespoke strength as well as gentleness.

     "Looks like you've had a spell of bad luck, friend."

     "So have you," Silas said, releasing the maimed hand reluctantly, feeling
an instant affinity with the man. "I'm Silas Trent."

     "My real name's Greg Walsh."

     "Glad to meet you, Greg. Or do you prefer Tavani?"

     "Either will do," he said amiably. "Where're you stayin'?"

     "Mayati suggested one of the longhouses, or the council hall... "

     "They're all purdy full," Greg said. "My friend's cabin is done enough to
give you shelter, if you'd like."

     "Yes, I think I'd like that... "

     "Mayati?" yet another voice began. Silas realized another heron man had
joined them.

     "Yes, Xioga?"

     "Wiscoup'a has brought you a message from Port Bolon."

     "I'll take care of Silas," Greg volunteered at once. "You go on."

     "I will return."

     As Mayati said that, he caressed Silas' cheek. Then he left with Xioga.
There was an awkward silence for a moment or two, then Silas spoke up.

     "Would you like to show me this cabin you're buildin'?"

     'Greg don't seem sure of himself, shy mebbe...' Silas thought, 'or he's
nervous 'cause he's got the same feelin's growin' inside of him that I have,
possibly... '

     "Oh, sure! I'll just grab your gear... "

     "Let me carry it. You can guide me."

     "All right."

     Silas picked up his pack with one hand and felt Greg's arm curl around
his shoulders, leading him away from the stable. Silas leaned into his guide a
little and the man's grip grew a bit tighter. Silas smiled as he heard Greg
sigh.

     'He does like me,' he thought.

     "Well, this is it," Greg announced after they had walked a short distance
from the corral. Silas could tell they had reentered the woods from the sudden
coolness of the surrounding air. "Watch the steps here," he added.

     "Lemme get my bearin's."

     Silas set his pack down inside the door and began feeling along the
inside walls of the cabin. First, he encountered a good-sized potbelly stove.
How it had been carried so far into this wilderness, Silas could not imagine.
Then his hands found a wide set of bunk beds, built against the wall opposite
the stove.

     "You like to sprawl, I see," Silas said, kicking the bed lightly. "Room
for a friend or three, there."

     "There's another set like 'em against the other wall. My friend Dark Fire
figured a bunkhouse might come in handy around here. You never know when
visitors might drop in, or how many. You want the top bunk or the bottom?"

     "I'd better take the bottom. Not bein' able to see, I might fall outta
that top bunk and bust my head wide open."

     'But not iffin' you was holdin' onto me, tight, like I'd like,' Silas
added mentally.

     "That's where I'm sleepin', but I can throw my blankets upstairs... "

     "Don't bother. There's more than enough room here for the two of us."

     Greg did not answer and Silas sat down. The edges of the bunk held a
quantity of hay in place, covered by a blanket, forming a mattress of sorts.
The hay smelt fresh and sweet.

     "You mean that?" Greg asked at length, sitting down next to Silas.

     "Sure. I kinda figured we had something in common as soon as we touched.
You feel real good to me, Greg."

     Silas felt Greg touch the bandage he wore lightly.

     "What happened to you?"

     "A pile of gunpowder blew up in my face."

     "Damn. I'm sorry."

     "And you?" Silas asked, finding Greg's maimed hand and taking it in both
of his.

     "Lost it in a sawmill."

     Silas responded by lifting the hand and kissing it gently.

     "I guess we're a pair, huh?"

     "Yep."

     "Silas, you sure are a good-lookin' cuss... "

     As Greg said that, Silas reached out to touch the man's face. The
beginnings of a beard, a forest of short bristles, covered the angular jaw and
high cheeks. His forehead was high and his hair was short.

     "So're you," Silas said at last. "Leastwise, you feel to me like a
good-lookin' man. You tryin' to grow a beard?"

     "Yes. I hope it'll be a good one, like yours, come spring. Are you
stayin' the winter?"

     "That's a good question. Everyone seems to think I am."

     "Got anyone special to spend it with?"

     "My pardner, Will Dern. His tribal name's Southwind. He's up visitin'
Falling Star now. But he won't be here for four or five days, maybe."

     Silas could feel Greg's hands tighten briefly at the news, then relax
again.

     "Well, if it can't be for the whole winter, whatcha say we make it just
you and me until Southwind returns?"

     "Sure. Greg?"

     "Yes?"

     "You got a pardner?"

     "Yes, his name's Tlaccotan. He's the chief of the Elxa."

     "But I thought Falling Star was the chief."

     "He is. Tlaccotan sorta sees to the day to day things, so Falling Star's
free to speak to the spirits who protect the Elxa."

     After some of the things he had already experienced, Silas did not doubt
that those spirits existed. He went on, asking, "Where is Tlaccotan?"

     "He's not in the settlement now, but I expect him back before the snow
flies."

     "I'm glad. I wouldn't like to think of you sleepin' all alone durin' the
comin' winter. I hope he loves you."

     "Like something fierce," Greg grinned.

     "Greg?"

     "Yes?"

     "I'm kinda new to the ways the Elxa men do things, so would you mind
iffin' I asked you a question?"

     "Of course not, go ahead," Greg said, putting his arm around Silas'
shoulders. "Whatcha wanna know?"

     "Southwind and I have spent the last year together, ever since we met up.
And just a week ago, iffin' he'd told me was plannin' to spend this comin'
winter with someone else, it'd prob'ly have busted me in two. But I've only
been in the valley of the heron a couple of days and already there's a part of
me that wants to be with Mayati and a new part that wants to be with you. It
all feels good, and right, but I'm so confused. How can you be in love with so
many people all at the same time?"

     "Well, from what I've observed, it's like the heron men are, well, kinda
curious, in a cautious way, and kinda innocent, in a wise sort of way,
trustin' their feelin's."

     "Like when we was kids."

     "Yeah, that's it... " Greg paused thoughtfully.

     "Well, confusin' or not, it's a sight better than not bein' able to love
at all, I reckon."

     "You sure got that right. I'm right thankful I found the heron men. This
is a country where a man can switch his tail and scratch his own itches
without worryin' about what his neighbors think! Say, how'd you work out what
you said about kids just then?"

     "Actually, it just sorta came to me yesterday while I was listenin' to
Mayati play his flute."

     "Stranger things have happened 'round here. You been havin' any peculiar
dreams? Just being in the valley of the heron seems to bring 'em on, leastwise
that's what I've experienced."

     "Yeah. As a matter of fact, I spoke to my brother last night. He's been
dead for years."

     "Huh! Would you believe me iffin' I told you I dreamed a red-furred wolf
came into this cabin and jumped into my bunk with me? I was scared stiff until
he startin' into lickin' my face, all friendly-like. Nobody here's been able
to explain it to me."

     Greg felt Silas start under his arm. He looked at the blindfolded man in
concern.

     "You okay?"

     "Yeah. I was just surprised. You see, I only took my tribal name a couple
of days ago. Will named me in a song he sung me."

     "What is it?"

     "Fire Wolf."

     "Oh!" Greg gasped, his mouth falling open in shock as he connected his
medicine dream with Silas' tribal name. "Damn. This is spooky."

     "You said yourself that peculiar things happen in the valley of the
heron," Silas reminded him.

     "So I did," mused Greg. "I guess this, your name and my dream, is an
example."

     "You're tellin' me. But listen, just one more thing. Supposin' we had
decided to hook up for the winter. Wouldn't it have bothered Tlaccotan?"

     "It would've bothered Will, wouldn't it?"

     "Yeah, but I'm not sure that he wouldn't have understood, what with the
way you heron men do things and all - it seems things are loose and easy, for
the most part."

     "I know it looks that way, but it's not, though it's hard to explain to
guys who are new to the tribe," Greg said. "I know Tlaccotan wouldn't kick up
a fuss if I stayed with someone else this winter. Hell, he's been a member of
the tribe a sight longer than we have. Still, I'd feel a bit guilty."

     "Me too, about Will."

     "It's deep, this thing they call the Way of the Heron."

     "Makes me wonder if I'll ever really understand it. Oh well, maybe just
tryin' at something's the best thing to do sometimes, even iffin' you don't
seem to be gettin' anywhere."

     Greg murmured softly.

...one tree in the forest,
one rock from the mountain,
cannot know how many
others like them there are;

but they do know
instinctively
that they are part
of something greater...

     "That was nice."

     "It's part of a medicine song Tlaccotan taught me. I just translated it
into English. Falling Star told me another one, sort of a warning not to try
to think about the Way of the Heron too hard:"

...he who seeks
a name for it
shall never find it;

he who finds it
shall have no need
to name it...

     The two men sat silently on the bed for a time, just hugging and feeling
the warmth of their bodies.

     "You hungry?" Greg asked at length. "There's always a pot of hot catchall
cookin' at the campfire."

     "That sounds good."

     "Lemme check on something first."

     "What?" Silas asked as he got up and was led from the cabin.

     "My buddy Dark Fire has a still set up in a shed we built nearby, and I
promised him I'd keep an eye on it."

     "Sounds like a right tasty chore."

     "Well, yeah," Greg admitted with a grin. "I do have to have a shot every
now and again, just to make sure the still's workin' right, you understand!"

     "That's what I thought," Silas grinned broadly as he was guided into the
shed. "Where is Dark Fire?"

     "Gone to Port Bolon to buy some supplies."

     "That's where the Umpqua flows into the Pacific, isn't it?"

     "That's right. There's a new store in False Pass, but they're still sorta
gettin' started and don't have a lotta things. So Dark Fire had to go on to
Port Bolon to get what he needed."

     The sharp scent of alcohol smote Silas' nose as Greg spoke. Silas could
hear Greg bustling about and felt what he thought was the heat of a fire. Then
he realized a tin cup was being pressed into his hands.

     "Try it and tell me what you think."

     Silas sipped liquid fire, and gasped.

     "Hoo!"

     "Good?" Greg asked hopefully.

     "Well, I don't think it'd impress my uncle. It wouldn't 'fry your liver',
like he'd used to say, but it's sure strong enough for me!"

     "Was your uncle a moonshiner?"

     "Yep. He tried to teach me something about makin' hard liquor when I was
young. Never had any chance to use what I learned, though."

     "Well, I'm sure Dark Fire'd be glad for any suggestions you might have."

     "I'd be happy to help."

     "Well, everything looks okay here. Let's go get some grub."

     Greg led Silas out of the shed and to the cookfire, describing the layout
of the center of Roman Rock as they went. There were three main structures, a
council hall and twin longhouses on either side of it. The narrow buildings
were arraigned like the spokes of a wheel, all opening onto the northern edge
of a roughly defined circular area of open ground, used in tribal ceremonies.

     The council hall was a place for tribal meetings, as well as providing
additional shelter for the curious men who journeyed to the valley of the
heron to play and explore their unique natures with others like them. The hall
was sturdily built with thick slabs of hand-hewn wood, cunningly mortised and
tenoned. The building's sides and roof were intricately carved and painted
colorfully, images of sacred animals and medicine spirits dancing gayly across
its facade.

     A totem pole, just as skillfully carved and painted, stood at the
southern edge of the circle. Its many fantastic faces looked into the open
space demarcated by the pole and the southward-facing entrances of the three
buildings opposite it. In the center of the Elxa's ceremonial fane was a
firepit where the communal cooking was done.

     A scattering of visitors' tents could be seen pitched a ways beyond the
circle. Some new buildings had been erected a discreet distance to the east,
screened from the view of the fane by a thick copse of maples, willows and
sugar pines. They included Dark Fire's bunkhouse, and the shed which housed
the still, not far from the barn and corral that Mayati had first brought
Silas to.

     "...over yonder is the stream you followed comin' here, Heron Creek. It
spreads out into a nice-sized pond not too far down, great for swimmin' and
washin'. There's a big hot spring that flows into it, keepin' it nice and
warm. Then the creek falls into another big pond, almost a lake, further on."

     "It sure is easy to get a bath around here!" Silas commented. "Red Hand
told us there are lots of hot springs in the valley."

     "That's right. If you wanna wash, I'd best go in with you. Can't be goin'
and lettin' my new pardner drown, can I? How's about after we get us a bite to
eat?"

     "Okay," Silas decided easily. "I'm goin' to like it here in Roman Rock, I
think."

     Greg guided Silas to a place in the circle of tribesmen that he later
found always seemed to ring the cooking pot, conversing as they ate together.
He was handed a dish of unfamiliar smelling stew. As he sipped some of the
meaty juice, a hand touched his shoulder.

     "Fire Wolf? It is Mayati."

     "Hello," he touched the heron man in return.

     "I have received a message telling me I am needed downstream. I am sorry
to leave you, but I must."

     "Well, iffin' you gotta go... " Silas began, gripping his gentle guide's
hand. He paused before going on. "Thank you for bringin' me here."

     "I was honored to do it. Wiscoup'a knows what has to be done in regard to
the treatment of your eyes and will take care of you until Will returns."

     "Will you hear a song before you go?"

     "For me?"

     "Yes, you, heron man:"

The heron flies,
The wolf howls,
Lonely, alone...

But the wolf can't
Prevent the heron
From flyin',

Any more than
The heron can stop,
The wolf from howlin'.

     Mayati touched Silas' face gently.

     "I will remember your song and return to you."

     The sound of moccasined feet padding away from him made Silas a bit sad.
Then Greg squeezed his shoulder gently. The prospector turned to his new
friend.

     "That song of yours sure impressed the fellas here."

     "Do they all understand English?"

     "Some do, but Wiscoup'a here translated it for the ones who don't."

     "They liked it, huh?"

     "I did too. Singin' songs may not be my strong point, Silas, but I know a
good one when I hear it!"

* * *

     Will's sleep was one of those strange ones where no time at all seems to
pass. No sooner had Asa cuddled up to him, or so it seemed, Will opened his
eyes and found a new morning awaiting him. He heard the gurgle of a coffee pot
boiling and smelled the delicious aroma of cooking food on the breeze.

     Red Hand was already up and preparing the men's breakfast, seemingly
oblivious to the way his two charges were tangled up together beneath their
combined blankets. Will nudged Asa, hoping to get his bedmate to help him in
making a united front before the heron elder when they got up. However, Asa
only groaned plaintively, turned his back on the trapper and promptly went
back to snoring softly.

     'You low-down coward!' Will thought as he got up and reached for his
clothes.

     "Did you sleep well, Southwind?" asked Red Hand after a few moments,
without any hint of irony.

     "Yes," Will replied as nonchalantly as he could as he stuck one leg into
his pants, his relaxed cock and balls dangling openly. When he finished
dressing he reached for the steaming coffee pot while Red Hand went to the
bedroll and shook Asa awake.

     "You cannot sleep all day, Sees Far," he scolded. "Get up!"

     "Wha... who?" the townsman started, sitting up and blinking at his
surroundings with unfocused eyes.

     "Here," Will said as he handed Asa a cup of hot coffee. "This'll get you
goin'."

* * *

     After breakfast, the three travelers continued their uneven ascent,
penetrating further into the Cascade wilderness. After a couple of hours, they
reached a plateau of sorts. Heron Creek meandered through the forested plain
there in great loops, forming shining liquid crescents in the sunlight.

     Zoraxte loomed majestically against the sky, dominating the skyline above
the foothills they were passing through. As they went, Red Hand explained to
Asa and Will that the Elxa believed their sacred mountain was the physical
body of one of the masculine spirits that protected the tribe, with all the
strength of the great mountain. He told them some other Elxa myths, stories of
Zoraxte's lover, the Heron Spirit, who was not attached to a physical form,
but was believed to currently dwell in the great lake of diamond waters, and
the child of his and Zoraxte's love, the Green God, who was one with the
forests that covered the valley of the heron, and all who dwelt in them.

     The trail left the stream and rose steeply. After a short time, Will
smelled smoke and raised his eyes. He saw a wood and timber cabin, constructed
on a rocky outcrop, and a man standing before it in the distance.

     It was a moment or so before Will realized that it was a young, bronze
skinned metiff he was looking at, an Indian-white hybrid, who seemed to be
about the same age as Asa. The stranger was dressed in the barest native
fashion. Only the brightly beaded breechclout that clung to his darkly tanned
loins obstructed the view of his nearly naked form. Will ran his eyes hungrily
over the unexpected sight, feeling his heart skip a beat.

     'Gawd!' Will thought, excited by what he saw, 'he's... he's beautiful!'

     "Damn... " hissed Asa, betraying the similar thoughts he was having as he
too studied the handsome man.

     The stranger's body was lithe and smoothly muscular. His hair was a
medium shade of brown and long, his cheeks obscured by a light beard. As the
wind toyed with his loose tresses, tossing them over his shoulders and across
his lightly haired chest, the sunlight drew forth amber highlights from them.

     Frank approval lined Will's face as he continued to stare upward, feeling
Logger stir impudently in his pants. Then, because he was not watching where
he was going, he stepped on a spot of loose rock and slipped. He regained his
balance at once, but Red Hand turned his head at the sudden noise and regarded
Will with the barest touch of amusement before looking up at what had
distracted his companion.

     "I didn't know there would be any other heron men here," Will commented,
trying to sound casual.

     "It is our brother, Nizano," Red Hand replied. "He lives nearby, so that
he can learn our ways from Falling Star."

     "He's a sort of apprentice shaman?" asked Asa.

     "Yes," Red Hand responded.

     'Now that's a damn good-lookin' man,' Will rephrased his earlier thought.

     "I thought Falling Star and you were lovers," began Asa.

     "We are."

     "So Nizano and Falling Star are just friends?"

     "If you mean to ask if they are having sex, I am sure they are," Red Hand
replied with a smile.

     "But how can he if you... "

     The Elxa elder held up his hand. "Our ways may seem odd to you now, Sees
Far, but you will come to understand them."

     "You're not jealous?"

     "There is no word for 'jealousy' in the Elxa tongue. It is a white
concept, and in time, if you stay with us, you will unlearn it." Red Hand
paused to cock his head before he continued in an amused tone. "Or perhaps you
already have. You and Southwind seemed quite comfortable in your shared
blankets this morning... "

     "Okay," blushed Asa as he glanced at Will, who had also reddened at the
elder's comments. "I give!"

     Will turned his eyes back up the trail and, as they drew closer, he
impulsively lifted a hand in greeting. The figure on the rock signaled back at
once. A few minutes later, the travelers reached the spot where Nizano waited
for them.

     The men all paused and stood within sight of the black mouth of the cave
of mysteries, a jagged rift in the base of a mass of stone, a flanking ridge
of Zoraxte, that rose not too far beyond the structure Will had seen from
below. Another gap in the rock further away allowed a steaming stream of water
to gush and fall into a pool lined with large, flat stones. Will glanced at
the mist rising from the pool of clear, hot water and recalled what Red Hand
had said earlier, about thermal springs being common in the valley of the
heron.

     Red Hand kissed and embraced Nizano in greeting. Then they spoke to each
other in the language of the Elxa for several moments, pausing to introduce
Asa to Nizano. The two men greeted each other warmly, and Will took the
opportunity to study Nizano more closely. The trapper's attention focused on
Nizano's supple, muscular body, the curves of the strong tanned thighs, the
inviting plumpness of his bronzed buttocks...

     "Welcome," Nizano began, wrecking Will's train of thought as he turned
abruptly from Asa and Red Hand. "You know my name already."

     "Yes. Nizano."

     The heron man's name rolled off Will's tongue as if he were invoking the
favor of a pagan deity of manlove, and left a pleasant sensation in his mouth.
He gazed into Nizano's surprisingly blue eyes, so blue there was nothing Will
could think of at first to compare them to. They seemed to twinkle as they
beheld Will, or so the trapper thought, and a bit of hope flared within him as
Will wondered if Nizano could possibly be interested in him.

     "Will?"

     "Oh! Sorry, I was... thinkin' of something else."

     Nizano looked at him quizzically.

     'Those eyes... ' Will sighed mentally.

     "Come," he said, turning, "Falling Star wanted to see you as soon as you
arrived."

     "Wait. Where have Red Hand and Sees Far gone?" Will asked, noticing for
the first time that his companions had disappeared.

     "Red Hand has gone to rest."

     "Oh?"

     "Yes," Nizano replied. "He is no longer a young man."

     "Well, he sure had me fooled," Will began, recalling the nearby cabin
suddenly. "We rested some along the way, but he never complained or anything.
Just kept on goin', tireless-like."

     "Sees Far went with him. As I said, Falling Star wants to speak with you
first." The heron man informed Will.

     Will paused to look back at the cabin, studying it more closely. From
below, it had seemed smaller and perched on bare rock. But his new vantage
point allowed Will to see how ample the building really was.

     A stable attached to its rear opened out into a large, grassy area. It
appeared to be a shelflike plateau that fanned out several hundred yards
towards a forested rise. The flat was pockmarked with odd, knee-high humps of
smooth stone that peeked over the waving green of the hardy mountain grass.

     A small stream, fed by the overflow from the hot spring, wound lazily
through the field before falling into Heron Creek. Three animals were grazing
the lush grass: a droop-eared mule, a strange, scar-faced sorrel and a spotted
mustang. Then Will spotted two more horses, further back in the mountain
meadow. He squinted at a splash of color beyond the animals, vivid against the
green grass, and saw two men.

     The couple were lying together in a grassy spot at the far edge of the
rocky pasture. A russet-haired white man and a coppery-skinned native, both
magnificently naked, were making slow love on a multicolored blanket spread
out in the bright sunshine. Will froze, drinking in the unexpected, voluptuous
sight.

     The white man's ankles were propped upon his companion's tanned
shoulders. The movements of the native's dark hips were languid, rhythmic and
quite visually stimulating. Will recalled the times he had been in such a
position and could almost feel Silas inside him, imagine the experience with
Mayati, or even with Nizano...

     "The white man's tribal name is Il-Xochitl," Nizano began, startling Will
out of his reverie. "Our brother Tolatil has brought him to visit Falling
Star. He seeks the same knowledge as you do, a deeper understanding of the
special nature men like us share. It is indeed a beautiful thing to see their
love for one another deepening, but Falling Star is expecting us. We should
not keep him waiting."

     "Uh, sure. It's just, well, seein' something like that can sure distract
a fella," replied Will.

     Nizano merely smiled in reply as they turned toward the mouth of the
cave. Following, Will felt more distraction as his eyes were drawn
irresistibly down to Nizano's nearly bare backside. Taut buttock muscles
flexed rhythmically in the mountain sunlight.

     Will fought back a sudden urge to reach out and touch the desirable body
before him. He experienced another flash of fantasy, saw Nizano and himself
sharing a blanket laid out in the warm sun. Nizano's body against his,
enfolded in his arms, the touch of Nizano's hands, the taste of Nizano's
sweat...

     Then a sudden darkness pulled Will out of his reverie as they passed
through the jagged maw of the cave of mysteries and traversed a long, shadowy
gallery. Niches here and there along the gently declining way held oil lamps
fashioned of clay. Pale drops of fire clung to the lamps' spouts and wavered
languidly as the men passed by.

     Eventually, the passage opened onto a large domed chamber. Will noticed
other openings along its walls that presumably led to places even deeper
inside the mountain. The white man glanced about himself, amazed at how
accurate his dream had been. Everything was exactly as he recalled seeing it.

     Falling Star was sitting before a fire, just as he remembered, in his
vision and from the last time he had been in that place, a year before,
smoking his unusually long and ornamented pipe. Nizano motioned for Will to
lay aside his gun and pack before sitting down, opposite the leader of the
Elxa tribe. Then Nizano sat, to Will's right.

     With a flourish of his pipe, Falling Star spoke, his words flowing out
along with a stream of fragrant smoke.

     "Nizano is my apprentice," he began. "Do you mind if he stays and listens
to our conversation, Will?"

     "No, I don't mind," Will answered at once, glancing again at the handsome
young man. There was that something again glinting in Nizano's eyes as he
looked into their deep blueness. Desire... ?

     'Could he be interested in me?' Will thought in a mixture of hope and
skepticism.

     Will shot another glance at the heron chief, who was calmly taking
another draw on his long pipe.

     'Nizano likes Falling Star, I can tell that much... Maybe he likes his
men seasoned... '

     Hope won over skepticism for a brief moment. But both retreated when
Falling Star blew out a cloud of smoke and began to speak. Nizano and Will
both listened attentively to the shaman's words.

     "I have not seen you for many moons, Southwind," he began. "You said you
would go and think about the things I had told you as you wandered, but you
never came back."

     "While I was thinkin', I met Silas. We've been pardners ever since. And I
tried to remember your teachin's, so's I could love him better. But, since I'm
not a heron man, I'm not sure I have."

     "You have," Falling Star said confidently. "I can hear it in the way you
speak Fire Wolf's name, see it in your eyes. You and your lover are our
brothers and we will help you as best we can."

     "Thank you."

     "Now tell me what you saw in the vision the spirits sent you."

     "But, you ought to know already," puzzled Will. "You were there."

     "You might have seen my image, but it was not I, only a projection by the
spirits so they could speak to you more easily. It is possible they gave you
glimpses of things pertinent to you and Fire Wolf, your situation, that only I
could interpret for you. Tell me everything you remember, Southwind, sparing
no detail."

     Will began reciting from memory, recalling the details of his vision, as
the shaman slowly smoked. The bluish fragrance rising from his medicine pipe
gathered in the cave's still air to wreath his head, seeming to form an odd
and ghostly halo. When Will reached the part about the spirit that looked like
Mayati and his desire for the flute player, he became a bit embarrassed and
his hand went unconsciously to the Elxa glyphstone hanging about his neck,
toying with it. Nizano listened, his eyes upon Will, two glittering icy blue
sparks in the firelight.

     When Will mentioned the moving glyphs, he glanced around himself at the
drawings that festooned the cave walls. He identified the ones he had seen to
Falling Star before going on. Soon thereafter, he reached the end of his
story.

     "...and then I woke up and found the Elxa glyphstone in my hand," he
concluded.

     "Did you recognize the two moving symbols you saw?"

     "No. But in the vision, the musician said you would explain to me what
those animals, the hyaenas, were."

     "Ah yes," the shaman began. "First of all, you must understand that they
represent not animals, but evil spirits, the opponents of those spirits who
choose to help the Elxa, and they also depict some men, certain men who are of
our nature, and yet deny that nature. They, for many reasons we need not go
into now, have suppressed the feelings that we heron men revel in, and this
makes them angry. They think everyone of our nature should not act on it,
especially openly, as the Elxa tribe does. Because of that, they see the heron
men as a threat, and seek to destroy us.

     "We call them hyaenas because old legends say that of all the animals on
earth, they are the only beasts who cannot make up their minds as to whether
they are male or female. These confused men are similarly afflicted, not
understanding, indeed, loathing their true natures and trying to change that
which is unchangeable, their spirits."

     "And... their true nature is the same as ours?" Will ventured.

     "Yes. But since they cannot bring themselves to act on the feelings they
have, they attack anyone who does express such feelings, like ourselves, from
fear, jealousy and pride. Fear, because we might expose the sham lives they
lead to others, for though they might fool other men, we know who they are.
Jealousy, because we are enjoying our unique natures, openly and fully, and
they cannot. And pride, because our ways are a constant reminder to them of
what cowardly, hypocritical, small beings they are."

     "I see."

     "As for the rest of what you saw, you must take a spirit journey in order
to understand it."

     "What must I do?"

     "Remove your clothing, so nothing can come between you and the spirits
who will guide you. Then reseat yourself where you were and do as Nizano bids
you. I will go and make prayers to announce your coming to the spirits and
commend you to their care."

     "How long will it take?" Will asked as he rose and began to strip.

     "You will know when it is over."

     Falling Star's words were confident, if cryptic. He remained sitting and
smoking until Will was done removing his clothing and gave the trapper's hard
body an approving, appreciative look. Then he rose and left, disappearing
through a fissure in the rock wall. Soon Will could hear the shaman's voice
emanating from an adjoining chamber, a soft chanting in the Elxa tongue that
echoed vaguely in the cavern's gloom.

     Will sat back down and turned to Nizano, whom he saw was busy with
another oddly carved and painted pipe that had seemingly appeared as if by
magic. Loading the bowl from a leather pouch, Nizano lit it with a twig from
the fire, took a puff or two, and then handed it to Will. He inhaled,
surprised by the sweet, heavy tang of the smoke.

     'This ain't tobacco,' Will decided after a few moments. 'Mighty tasty,
though,' he conceded.

     After a few puffs, Will made to set the pipe aside, but Nizano motioned
for him to finish the contents of the bowl. As soon as he had, Nizano took the
spent pipe and vanished into the recesses of the cave. From somewhere within
that dense, spelaean darkness, a drum began sounding lightly, a monotonous
beat that meshed in a peculiar manner with the echoes of Falling Star's
lilting chant.

     Will sat enveloped in the rhythmic sounds and stared at the arcane
symbols painted on the wall before him, illuminated by the flickering
firelight, waiting. Then a peculiar sensation overcame him, as if time itself
had somehow slowed down around him. The fire seemed to burn sluggishly, the
shaman's voice droned dully and the drumbeat slowed, along with Will's
thoughts.

     And once again the painted images on the cavern's walls began to move,
most wavering oddly. They appeared to recede and advance a little from the
surface of the rock they were drawn on, alternatively becoming more and then
less distinct. The red, lithe shape he remembered from his dream however
appeared to spring energetically from its place and course across the wall on
its four legs. Here and there it darted, exploring, wandering, but always
remaining in Will's field of vision.

     Then Will became aware of other shapes that moved on the walls, sickly
orange colored ones, spiky and ill-omened looking. His skin crawled as he
watched them, repulsed. His languid thoughts, rising like bubbles in syrup,
told him they were the same as the hyaenas he had seen in his vision a few
days before.

     The evil newcomers seemed to catch the scent of the crimson runner and
followed it. Deliberately, the hyaena-things stalked and finally surrounded
the red image, cutting off all avenues of escape. Their trapped prey threw up
its head in alarm and howled. It was a desperate cry for help. And to his
surprise, Will recognized the sound that it made.

     'I know that voice... ' the thought came crawling up through the gelid
thickness that seemed to coat and cloy Will's mind.

     Five ribbons of blue, riffling as they moved like a flag in the breeze,
came towards the siege as if in answer to the howl. The vilely hued sharp
things tried to resist their advance, but the wavy sapphire lines seemed to
pick them up and scatter them easily, like leaves before a strong wind. At
last the hyaenas broke and ran away, snarling with frustration as they
disappeared into small fissures in the cave's uneven walls.

     The turquoise tendrils drifted down to gently touch and caress the
forlorn ruby image. They twined lovingly around the animal, seeming to help it
to its feet, healing it. Soon it was running wild and free again, racing the
azure streaks joyfully, not across rock walls, but, as it seemed to Will,
through lush, verdant forests and high mountain valleys strewn with every type
of gorgeous wildflower.

     Will's heart was wholly with the pair, overjoyed by their newfound
happiness and freedom. Then the thickness in his mind seemed to grow even more
viscid and dense. Will laid himself down on the stone floor and fell almost
immediately into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, lulled by the sound of a slow
chant and a distant drum.

* * *

     At just about the same time, several men were sitting around the cookfire
at Roman Rock, among them Silas, with Wiscoup'a on one side and Greg on the
other. Silas' attention was all on a bowlful of thick, savory soup. But at
length, he turned his bandaged head towards Greg and spoke.

     "Say, pardner, what's in this here stew?"

     "Well, I don't wanna scare you, but this batch of catchall could have
just about anything in it," Greg grinned. "Somebody different cooks every day,
addin' the vegetables and herbs they like, and every day a different hunter or
two'll come in with a new piece of meat for the pot. It was mostly deer stew
last night, but the latest additions I saw were a couple of rabbits and a duck
cut up and added to the mix this morning, along with a mess of wild greens."

     "I thought this was a bird laig I was chewin' on," Silas drawled. "But I
wasn't entirely sure."

     Silas took another bite and savored the juicy meat, flavored by the
melange of other ingredients in the catchall in an unusual, but good way. Just
as he swallowed, he felt an odd sensation. He stopped eating, lifted his head
and cocked an ear, listening.

     "What is it, Fire Wolf?" Wiscoup'a asked, noticing.

     "I don't know, I just had a funny feelin'... "

     As he said that, a wind began to shake the treetops around Roman Rock
noisily, announcing itself before it dropped into the encampment. It caused
the fire to blaze up momentarily as it blew through and startled all the heron
men there. They all began to talk to one another, the quiet buzz of their
language rising around the campfire. Silas listened, but caught only a few
words he understood.

     "Wiscoup'a, did something bad just happen? What do they mean by
'witchwind'?"

     "It is very odd for the wind to blow here this time of year, especially
just a single gust, like this one."

     "Oh?" replied Silas. A thoughtful look crossed Wiscoup'a face.

     "Fire Wolf, what did you feel before the wind blew? Can you name it?"

     "Well, you'll think I'm crazy, but it felt like how I feel when I know
that Will's nearby, but I know he ain't. He must still be at Falling Star's
home."

     "That may be true," Wiscoup'a went on, "but we believe that one's
spirit can be far from one's body, on occasion... "

     "Will's? What makes you think it was his spirit?"

     "The wind came from the south."

     Silas was silent awhile as he pondered the heron man's words.

     "Is there a way I can send a message to Will?" he asked at length.

     "Yes. Someone will be going to the cave of mysteries tomorrow. I can
write your words out for you, if you wish."

     "Yeah, thanks," Silas yawned fiercely. "And after that I'll be ready for
bed."

     "You and me both, pardner," Greg grinned, squeezing Silas' shoulder
affectionately.

     "Tavani, Fire Wolf is an injured man," cautioned Wiscoup'a. "You should
not exhaust him with love-play."

     As a few titters of laughter came from the others in the circle, Greg
opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself, thinking better of it. He
could still feel a delicious ache deep in his bowels, a reminder of the
extended fuck session he had been on the receiving end of with Silas earlier
that afternoon. It seemed to Greg that if anyone was in danger of being
exhausted, it was him, but Greg did not want to admit that before his Elxa
comrades, who were hungry for such tidbits of juicy gossip.

     "Don't worry, he's taking good care of me," Silas answered for Greg,
eliciting more mirth from the company.

* * *

     Before Will had gone with Nizano into the cave of mysteries, Red Hand and
Asa had retired to the nearby guest cabin to wait and rest. Though the heron
elder had wrapped himself in his blankets and fallen asleep quickly, Asa found
repose harder to find. Like Will, he too had found Nizano desirable and his
thoughts kept coming back to dwell on the Elxa tribesman's supple
handsomeness. At length he got up and left the cabin.

     Asa stood restlessly in the doorway for a few moments, scanning his new
surroundings. He had no intention of disturbing the two men who were making
love on the rainbow-colored blanket spread out in the sunshine at the far edge
of the field behind the cabin, so he walked into the forest that lay to the
west. A dozen or so strides carried him deep into a cool, moistly fragrant,
shadowed gloom.

     Since the woods grew on a continuation of the same plateau that lay
before the cave of mysteries, Asa was not surprised when he came to its edge.
He stood on the rock cliff and looked down, perhaps fifty feet or so, to Heron
Creek and the trail he had recently trod. Following the edge, he found it to
be curving gradually to the north, and at the same time, to be melding into
forested hills, the dropoff becoming less and less dramatic.

     Unexpectedly, Asa's randomly chosen path led him to a circle of standing
stones arranged on a flat outcrop of granite, perhaps twenty feet or so in
diameter, that gave a grand view of Heron Creek and the little valley it wound
through. The stelae were covered with masses of intricate carving. Asa ran his
fingers over them, tracing the grooves in curiosity. He figured that the
stones must have been placed there a long time ago, for their surfaces were
mottled with irregular patches of pale, slow-growing rock lichens.

     Just outside of the circle, was a massive, rectangular block of granite,
lying with one end sunk into the black earth, surrounded by lacey, dark green
ferns. A pair of young myrtle trees spread their branches over it, shading its
gently sloping surface. Asa noted a spray of starflowers growing near the
stone's higher end.

     Remembering what Red Hand had told him about the flowers, how they were
considered to be sacred by the heron men, Asa knelt and looked them over.
There were perhaps two dozen white blooms, a burst of brightness among the
shaded, dull green ferns, and Asa's first glance almost missed the single,
odd-colored flower amid the others. It was a pale, pearly gray hue and Asa
sniffed at it curiously. The fragrance was somehow different from the white
blossoms, musky rather than sweet.

     Asa stood up and looked around at the unusual monument again. His eyes
eventually came back to the shaded slab of rock. Just looking at it seemed to
summon the fatigue that had so far held aloof from Asa. He stretched himself
out on the stone and in a few minutes, the man was asleep.

* * *

     Slowly, Asa became aware of another presence in the place where he
rested. How long the enormous black bear had been sitting there, in the midst
of the stone circle, the man did not know. Why he felt no fear of the animal,
Asa did not know either, but it seemed as if they had been looking at each
other for a long, long time.

     How the bear could see at all was a mystery to Asa. Its eyes appeared to
be glowing pools of molten rock, overflowing at the corners of the sockets.
Smoky tears of brilliant lava dripped slowly from the brazing orbs, trickling
down the sides of the dark, blunt muzzle before dropping to the ground.

     Despite their odd appearance, the bear's unusual eyes shone and glinted
with a cunning intelligence as it took its time studying the white man. At
last, apparently satisfied with whatever it saw in Asa, the bear sat up,
exposing its hairy breast. It held up one paw, armed with an array of
impressive, razor-sharp claws, never taking its eyes off Asa.

     Running one of the claws down its breast, the beast slit itself open and
pulled the incision apart. There was no outpouring of blood, no sign of pain
on the bear's part. The shocking display did nothing to dispel the strange
detachment that pervaded Asa's senses. Calmly, Asa looked into the creature's
interior, at its heart.

     Or rather, the object that glowed and pulsed with a bright crimson light
in the bear's chest like no natural heart. The unknown that lay at the
animal's core looked like an irregularly-shaped stone, except for the weird,
sparkling, scarlet phosphorescence that played over its surface, brightening
and diminishing in a solemn, constant rhythm. The bizarre animal spoke at
last, with a voice that rumbled like distant summer thunder.

     "Come to me, my son."

     Asa rose. He could not refuse the summons. When he stood before the bear,
it spoke again.

     "Touch my heart."

     The man obeyed, reaching out. But an odd thing happened. Time seemed to
slow down. The closer Asa's fingers got to the bear's heart, the slower he
moved, making it seem as if Asa would never reach his goal.

     "Tell Falling Star," boomed the bear's voice, suddenly sounding as if it
were speaking from far away, as far as another world, "that you must touch my
heart, and Zeke Barnet must be there to witness it."

* * *

     Asa opened his eyes. Everything was quiet, cool and calm in the area
around the cliffside shrine. The wind stirred the ferns and sedges gently. A
solitary bluejay was perched upon the tallest of the standing stones, studying
the human who had dared to intrude on its territory with sharp eyes.

     But despite the peaceful aura of that place, Asa knew something important
had just happened. Asa sat up and looked curiously into the circle of stelae,
at the spot where he had seen the strange bear sitting. He was sure, recalling
the stories Red Hand had told him, that he had been visited by the Elxa god
Zoraxte in what the elder would call a medicine dream, but his eyes spotted
something that made him doubt if his experience had been just a vision induced
by sleep.

     There, in the center of the shelf of granite underlying the construct,
were small objects that glittered, catching the sunlight that slanted down.
Asa went over and knelt to examine them more closely. They proved to be little
bits of rock crystal. Asa was sure he had not seen them earlier.

     After gathering the crystals and pocketing them, Asa stood up, intending
to go and see if Red Hand had woken from his nap yet. When he reached the edge
of the woods, Asa looked over towards where he had seen the men making love
earlier and saw Red Hand talking with one of them, a native whose name he had
been told was Tolatil. Of the white man, Il-Xochitl, there was no sign.

     "Hello, Sees Far," Red Hand greeted him as he neared the natives. "Sit
and join us."

     "Welcome," added Tolatil.

     Asa nodded in acknowledgement as he sat down. "I believe I've had another
medicine dream," he said without a preamble. "And I found something rather
odd... "

     Just then, the sound of a distant gunshot echoed from somewhere in the
woods to the north. Asa started, but his companions seemed to pay no heed to
it. Red Hand looked calmly at Tolatil.

     "Il-Xochitl is hunting dinner for us," explained Tolatil. "I will go and
see if he needs help bringing in his catch."

     "Tell me what you saw, Sees Far," Red Hand asked as Tolatil padded off
into the forest.

     Asa recounted everything to Red Hand: his walk into the woods, his
discovery of the circle of standing stones and the gray starflower growing
nearby, his fatigue and the dream he experienced while he napped there, and
the crystals he found, at the spot where he saw the bear weeping tears of
liquid rock. Tolatil listened with interest to his story and examined the
crystals Asa produced for him to see. When Asa came to the end, the heron
elder nodded.

     "Keep those crystals safe, Sees Far. They are the tears of Zoraxte, great
medicine, and will bring you luck."

     "Then what I saw was real? Not just a dream?"

     "Yes. You have seen a great mystery," Red Hand began. "Our god Zoraxte
himself has revealed his heart to you. Few know of the existence of the Heart
of Zoraxte and none but myself, Falling Star and the elder Xaculi know where
it is hidden. Nor has anyone ever touched the great totem of the Elxa, though
it seems you must."

     "What is it?"

     "The Heart of Zoraxte is powerful medicine, and the Elxa shamen have
known of it for almost as long as our tribe has lived in this valley. But it
was not until Falling Star began to read the books that Hunts-by-night left us
that we learned what it would be called by white men. The books speak of rocks
that sometimes fall from the sky. Those that survive the fall and are found
are taken away to museums for people to gawk at.

     "This must never happen to the Heart of Zoraxte, for if one rips out the
heart, the rest of the body dies. Without it, we believe our sacred mountain
would lose its power to protect us and all life in the valley of the heron
would suffer and wither. So, Sees Far, you must keep this mystery locked in
your heart and never speak of it to anyone except Xaculi, Falling Star or I."

     "I understand. There was a scientist sent to the coastal area of Oregon a
little while back to explore for the Smithsonian and he claimed to have found
a meteorite, but he had to leave it where he found it because it was too large
for his party to move. But he failed to leave clear directions for anyone else
to get back to it. Though men have searched for it since because of a
substantial reward that was offered, no one's found it yet. I can believe that
the Heart of Zoraxte would be valuable to some people. One thing still puzzles
me though."

     "What, my son?"

     "Who is Zeke Barnet? Why do I have to wait until he's here before I can
touch the Heart of Zoraxte?"

     "Ezekiel Barnet," Red Hand explained, "is the name Nizano's white father
gave him." The heron elder cocked his head and looked Asa in the eye. "Do you
have feelings for Nizano?"

     Asa was taken aback by the question. He recalled the feelings Nizano had
evoked in him when they first met and sputtered in reply. "Why, I only met him
briefly."

     "But what did you think of him?"

     "He is handsome, very handsome. But... "

     Red Hand held up a hand to stop Asa. "Have you thought of him, since you
met him?"

     "Yes," he admitted. "I have."

     Red Hand paused, thinking. "We will talk these things over with Falling
Star when he sees you. As for the gray starflower you found, did you smell it
before you slept?"

     "Yes."

     "Ah, it must have sparked your vision. We believe the gray starflower's
scent brings sleep and induces lucid dreams and visions. Its powers are
similar to the orange variety."

     "I see."

     "And now, my son," Red Hand said as he rose to his feet and stretched out
a hand to help Asa up, "we should gather wood and prepare a fire to cook
whatever Il-Xochitl has found for our dinner."

* * *

     When Will awoke he found himself on a sleeping pallet. Looking up, he
could see along the sloping gallery and just make out the opening of the cave,
far away. He realized that several hours must have passed, for Will could see
stars glinting down through the cavern's mouth from a violet sky, tinted by
the false light of dawn.

     Someone was sharing Will's blankets, breathing quietly and regularly next
to him. In the spelaean blackness, it was quite impossible to see who it was
that slept so soundly beside him. Nevertheless the presence in the darkness
was quite warm and reassuring, exuding an aura of protectiveness, and Will
easily relaxed back into sleep.

* * *

     The morning sun poked bright fingers through gaps in the log walls,
lighting up the loft of the guest cabin near the cave of mysteries. Asa opened
his eyes, feeling as if he were still dreaming. The nude bodies of Tolatil and
Il-Xochitl were pressed warmly against him from both sides, making him the
filling of a man sandwich.

     As Asa moved his gloved fingers slowly over the men's bodies, he wished
again that he could feel their skin. Il-Xochitl responded to his touch and
turned to face Asa. He yawned and stretched, rubbing the length of his body
against Asa's.

     "G'morning," he breathed through smiling lips, before kissing Asa.

     "Hmmm... Good morning."

     "Say, you remember what we were talkin' about last night?"

     "I think so. You mean my power?"

     "Yeah. Would you use it now to see my future?"

     Asa hesitated only for a moment before answering, thinking of Red Hand's
warnings against fear.

     "Alright."

     "Here," Il-Xochitl said, reaching to remove Asa's right glove.

     "Ready?" asked Asa.

     "Yeah."

     Asa reached out and placed his open hand on Il-Xochitl's chest. At first,
he felt the soft reddish-brown mat of fur that grew there. Then the regular
pulsing of the man's heart.

     But those sensations faded and were replaced by a series of images played
out before Asa's mind's eye. First he saw a gloomy, dank and noisy place, and
realized it was a mineshaft. The faces of two pale blonde haired young men
revealed themselves next, one of whom Asa had seen before. The younger of the
pair was the same person Asa had seen earlier, when he had touched Silas.

     The scene changed and Asa saw, as if through Il-Xochitl's eyes, a faint
trail leading through a forested wilderness. And after that, once again, Asa
felt the wonderful sensation he had experienced when he saw Silas' future. Of
the uncanny love-energy touching his heart, an ineffable experience, both
sensual and spiritual at the same time...

     "Ah!" Asa breathed as he pulled his hand back.

     "What did you see?"

     Asa told his new friend as he put his glove back on, adding what Red
Hand's opinion had been about the love-energy. As usual, the glimpses Asa had
been given of the man's future were too vague to be of much practical use.
Il-Xochitl shook his head in mild disappointment.

     "Well, I already sorta figured on workin' in one of the mines up around
Maury City durin' the comin' winter, so some of what you saw makes sense.
Thanks for tryin'."

     "At least I didn't see anything bad this time."

     Tolatil's hand slid up and over Asa's side, to caress him and Il-Xochitl
simultaneously. "Good morning, my friends." His gentle touch started a group
hug that slowly evolved into another bout of gentle, three-way sex...

* * *

     "Ohh... that's nice... " Greg groaned sleepily as he awoke, making the
transition from a good dream to a better reality. "Oh... Silas... what you're
doin'... that's real nice... "

     In the bunkhouse at Roman Rock, Silas had been awake and hard at work for
some time, using every trick he knew to arouse his sleeping bedmate's cock. It
was a game he liked to play with Will. Greg's hands groped their way downward,
finding Silas' head and feeling the long hair between his fingers as he
gripped and took control, pumping into the mouth that held the taut center of
his being.

     'He's close,' Silas thought. 'Come on, you ol' Tavani you, lemme have
some more of your tasty spunk... '

     Eager rigidity flexed achingly against wet warmth in the dark. Greg's
inner world grew brittle, snapped, and dissolved into long waves of liquid
musk, pulsing into dark, unknowably deep masculine abysses. His male essence
erupted wildly into Silas, just as his friend's male essence had flowed into
Greg earlier, a shattering ebb and flow, that forged bonds of the spirit,
linking the men, mingling, blending and lost in each other, one...

* * *

     "Silas, that was the damnedest best way anybody ever woke me up before in
my life!" Greg praised his bedmate, hugging him in gratitude before reaching
down to caress the prospector's cock. "Here, lemme return the favor... "

     A knock at the door came just then, interrupting Greg's amorous
intentions.

     "Damn! Not now!" he groaned.

     "Better now than a few minutes ago - or a few minutes from now, for that
matter!"

     As Silas laughed those words he rolled out of the wide bed he had been
sharing with Greg. Knowing the bunkhouse well by that time, he walked right to
the door and opened it. He also knew very well that the only thing he was
wearing was the bandage over his eyes and he mischievously hoped to give
someone a surprise.

     "Fire Wolf!" he heard Wiscoup'a exclaim in a startled tone, the first
time Silas had heard him lose his composure.

     "Yes?" Silas asked in a voice that was all innocence, fully aware of
Driller's plump length hanging heavily between his legs.

     'I know he's lookin' at me,' Silas thought. 'And he likes what he sees!'

     Wiscoup'a murmured something in the Elxa tongue and Greg burst out
laughing.

     "What's the joke?" Silas asked over his shoulder.

     "Wiscoup'a says you are very desirable, like the apple when it is at its
reddest!"

     "Yeah? Well, mebbe I'll let him nibble on me sometime!"

     Silas could not see, but Greg thought he could detect a change, a ruddier
hue, spreading across the heron man's dark features after hearing those words.

     "Enough joking, Fire Wolf. Come with me, it is time to change your
bandages."

     "Down by the pond? Great, I need to wash," he said, proffering a arm to
Wiscoup'a. "You comin' Greg?"

     "Ain't you gonna put your pants on?"

     "Why? I'd just have to take 'em off again when I get there!"

* * *

     Movement roused Will again and he saw Nizano had been the one who had
shared his blankets. The heron man had rebuilt the fire and Will got up to
join him for breakfast. They cooked a portion of the deer Il-Xochitl had shot
the previous day over the flames. There were also dried berries, parched corn
and a porridge of crushed seeds.

     At length, Falling Star and Red Hand joined them, rising from the bed
they shared off in a blind side-tunnel. They sat and ate without speaking. But
once the edge was off their appetites, Falling Star brought out his pipe and
began to smoke it as he interrogated Will about what he had seen the evening
before.

     Will repeated his dreamlike experiences to the heron shaman. He was
pleased to find he remembered it all perfectly. Falling Star nodded slowly as
Will finished and turned to speak quietly in the Elxa tongue with Red Hand.

     "What're they sayin'?" Will whispered to Nizano.

     "They're deciding who should guide you back to Roman Rock."

     "I reckon I could find it myself, if I had to," Will said. Mentally he
added: 'but I hope you get the job.'

     Falling Star turned to Will and opened his mouth to speak. But before he
could make a sound, an unexpected thing happened. The fire they were sitting
around suddenly blazed up, causing everyone to flinch away from it.

     The flames died away just as quickly, leaving everything as it had been
before, except for the stunned silence of the men. Falling Star recovered
first. He spoke slowly and in something like awe, letting his eyes rise from
the fire to Will.

     "It is a sign from Fire Wolf. His love for you must be strong indeed."

     "A sign of what?"

     "Do not fear, Southwind. It is not an evil sign. You will find out what
has happened when you return to Roman Rock."

     "I'm ready to go now," Will responded.

     'I want to be with Silas again... but Nizano's so... so beautiful,
dammit... I'm confused... ' Will thought even as the Elxa shaman spoke again.

     "I have listened to your vision, and weighed what you say you saw here.
Do you think you know the meanings behind your experiences?"

     "I was the blue lines, a wind, and Silas was the red thing... it was a
red, fiery wolf, wasn't it?"

     "Yes," Falling Star nodded, "and your love has saved and healed him. Go
to him now. Live and walk and love together in the Way of the Heron, always."

     When the shaman stopped speaking, Falling Star picked up something,
offering it to Will. He took it, thanking him before he looked at it. It was
another Elxa glyphstone.

     "It is for Fire Wolf," Falling Star explained. "I look forward to meeting
him in the spring, after his eyes are fully cured."

     Then Nizano asked Falling Star a question in the Elxa tongue. After they
and Red Hand had spoken for a bit, the shaman's apprentice turned to Will.

     "Red Hand wishes to stay here with Falling Star. I'll guide you back to
Roman Rock."

     That decided, the four men left the cave together. They found Asa,
Tolatil and Il-Xochitl gathered around a fire outside the cabin, finishing
their breakfast. As Will went over to say goodbye, Falling Star touched
Nizano's arm.

     "Yes?"

     "Sees Far has had another medicine dream. Zoraxte himself has told us
what to do in order to help him, but you must be here to witness it."

     "Do you know why?"

     "I cannot say with certainty, Nizano. Tell me, how do you feel about Sees
Far?"

     "Why, I've hardly spoken to him. But I do find him handsome." The
apprentice shaman looked over at the nearby group and studied Asa. "Yes, a
very handsome man," he murmured.

     "You should know," Red Hand began quietly, "that Zoraxte revealed the
name your white father gave you to Sees Far."

     Nizano opened his mouth to respond, but found he could not, for sheer
surprise. Falling Star held up his hand and looked away. His apprentice
followed his glance and saw Asa coming towards them.

     "Southwind tells me you're leaving," he said, addressing Nizano.

     "Yes, I'm going to guide him to Roman Rock. I'll be back as soon as I
can."

     There was an awkward pause as each man studied the other. Asa finally
broke it. "Well, travel safely."

     "I will... my brother."

     As Nizano said that, he embraced Asa. Asa hugged him back, feeling an
odd, hollow feeling as his gloved hands gave only a muted sense of the man's
firm body. Red Hand cleared his throat.

     "Nizano cannot leave until you release him, Sees Far."

     "Oh, I didn't realize... " Asa flustered, suddenly aware of how long he
had been hugging.

     "Don't," Nizano said gently. "I enjoyed it. And I'll be back for more
soon."

     He winked as he finished. Asa smiled and fell back as Will came up. He
looked at the four men and wondered what was going on.

     "I'm ready to go if you are," Will said.

     "Farewell, Southwind," Falling Star replied, embracing his new brother.
"Let Fire Wolf know I will be waiting for him in the spring, when he will be
well enough to make the journey to my home."

     "I will. 'Bye. And thanks again for everything."

     Asa watched the pair start off, down the steep and rocky path that led to
Heron Creek and the trail leading west to Roman Rock. He sighed, causing
Falling Star to glance knowingly at Red Hand. He touched Asa's shoulder.

     "Come with me, Sees Far. We will talk of what you have experienced, your
dreams and your visions, until our brother Nizano returns to us."

* * *

     Silas' nude promenade through Roman Rock shattered the usual morning
routine in the Elxa encampment. Led by Wiscoup'a, the two men progressed
towards one of the nearby pools fed by Heron Creek, and those who were up
early stopped whatever they were doing to stare as they passed. The native
Elxa tribesmen seldom saw redheaded white men, much less hairy, handsome ones
who were stark naked.

     "You please many with the sight of your body, Fire Wolf," Wiscoup'a
murmured.

     "I don't know why, mebbe it's just bein' here with all you heron fellas,
but I feel bold and good and strong and, well, beautiful too, all at the same
time."

     "That is because you are all those things. And more. Sit here, by the
edge of the pond."

     "Hoo!" Greg began as soon as he arrived, carrying Silas' clothes. He
flopped down beside the prospector. "You sure stirred up the camp!"

     "Ah, Tavani," Wiscoup'a said. "It is good you are here. Let we show you
how to prepare Fire Wolf's bandages, just in case I am called away."

     "I might as well take a dip while you two are gettin' ready."

     "Here's some soap I brought along."

     As Greg said that, he pressed a bar into Silas' hand. Once Silas had
removed the old bandage, he slid into the pond and started scrubbing himself.
Ducking his head under to wash off the suds, he came up and threw his head
back, sending the water streaming from his long hair in glittering arcs. And
he opened his eyes wide.

     "Ow!" he cried, recoiling, covering his eyes.

     "Silas?" Greg exclaimed, jumping in to grab him. "Are you okay?"

     "The sun in my eyes... it hurts... "

     "You can see?!"

     "I... a little... "

     "What?"

     "Everything's all blurry. I can see funny blobs of color... " Silas
squinted closely at Greg, who was dripping and wearing just his jeans as he
steadied his friend. The prospector realized that Asa had predicted Silas
would see something like this. And he made another connection as well, as he
studied Greg. "Hey, you're the fella I saw in my medicine dream!"

     "You dreamed of me?"

     "A few days ago. I'll tell you about it later."

     "It is as Red Hand said, the return of your sight would be gradual," said
Wiscoup'a. "Come, let me bind up your eyes again, or else you might strain
them."

     "Darn it," Greg complained as he helped Silas out of the water. In his
waterlogged pants he had to slog ashore, moving ungainly.

     "Your clothing needed washing anyway, Tavani," chuckled Wiscoup'a, before
turning to replace Silas' bandage.

* * *

     Not surprisingly, Will and Nizano made better time as they descended
Heron Creek towards Roman Rock. Nizano seemed as tireless as Red Hand and Will
was inured to walking long distances. Besides, he was strongly motivated to
rejoin his partner. By the afternoon, they had reached the clearing above the
waterfall where he, Silas and Red Hand had met up with Mayati.

     Nizano cut a branch from a tree, trimmed it and tied his knife to it,
making a serviceable spear. He waded into the pool above the falls to fish
while Will gathered wood and started a fire. It was not long before the aroma
of cooking trout fillets filled the air of the camp. Soon the men were sitting
by the firepit, eating and talking.

     "Can we go on after we finish here?" Will asked between bites of fish.
"There's still plenty of daylight left."

     "Certainly, Southwind, if you wish. I can understand why you are anxious
to get to Roman Rock."

     Will didn't know what to say to that, so he was silent.

     "I think we'll probably have to spend the night along the trail somewhere
though."

     Will took another bite and looked at Nizano's face, but, like the native
heron men he had met so far, it betrayed no emotion.

     "There are many such spots, cleared over the years by those who've
traveled this trail."

     "For how long?"

     "The Elxa were led to the valley of the heron in 1832, but the Way of the
Heron itself is old, Southwind. It existed long before the first white men
came to the New World."

     "Huh!" Will breathed, trying to remember what he had learned in school
long ago. Columbus had sailed nearly 400 years before, so the Elxa tribe was
even older than that...

     "Southwind... " Nizano's eyes locked with Will's. "I think you are
beautiful," Nizano whispered. "Would you like to make love to me?"

     "I'm flattered," Will managed, unprepared for the heron man's directness.
"But Silas... "

     Nizano cocked his head questioningly.

     "...it's just that when we're together, it's just him and me."

     "Is he here now?"

     "No, but... "

     "It doesn't matter," Nizano said, waving his hand dismissively. "There
will be plenty of time this winter for you to think about it and decide. And I
can wait. Springtime is such a good time for us, we renew our loves just as
nature renews the earth."

     "How can you be so nonchalant about... about it?"

     Will had meant to say 'about me' but changed his words at the last
second.

     "It's strange," Nizano began, regarding the other man with slightly
amused eyes. "A couple of years ago, when I was new here, I had a very similar
conversation with someone who said they loved me and then seemed to discourage
my desire to make love to him."

     "What happened?"

     "I got angry, he laughed and I realized I was a fool."

     "Is that what I am?" Will asked, an edge of sudden anger tainting his
voice.

     Nizano sighed.

     "I mean I realized that he wasn't playing games with me, like most of the
men I'd known before. I was still suspicious of anyone who told me I was
beautiful or that they loved me, because I thought they were only doing it in
order to get something from me."

     "Oh," Will managed.

     "Southwind, do you think I want to take something from you?"

     "No... I mean I don't know... Silas... " Will sputtered.

     Nizano's eyes widened a bit.

     "Are you afraid that your feelings for Fire Wolf might change if you made
love to me?"

     "Yes. That's exactly it," Will replied with mingled relief and
embarrassment.

     "I apologize. I didn't know I stirred you so deeply... "

     "It's not your fault," Will said, feeling miserable.

     "I know you won't believe me now, Southwind," Nizano began, staring down
at the dark earth upon which they sat, scratching at it with one finger. "But
the only thing that can come of love is more love. If we love, your feelings
will deepen and when you return to your partner, you will give him more of
yourself than before.

     "When the world looks at us, the heron men, its cynically warped eye sees
only rank promiscuity and animal rutting in our ways. But we know the truth,
and nothing, no one, can touch or harm or destroy that truth. As long as we
walk in the Way of the Heron we will be free and strong and filled with the
understanding of love. And we will love each other in that freedom and
strength and understanding."

     Will looked down and saw that Nizano had drawn a stylized bird in the
dust at their feet. The same glyph that adorned the stones hanging from both
their necks. It was the tribal symbol of an unnameable ideal, a tender reality
that was felt by all the man-loving men of the Elxa tribe in their hearts and
spirits.

     By that time, Will had felt its reality too. He knew it had nothing to do
with the opinions of previous generations or the laws left behind by them,
legacies subject to argument, interpretation and reinterpretation. It was an
ageless, transcendent ideal, a living entity, always whispering its truths
lovingly to the hearts of man-loving men, guiding those who cared to listen
into the paths of a unique wisdom through love.

     '...we will love each other... ' Nizano's last sentence continued to ring
in Will's mind. 'Does he means himself and his fellow heron brothers... or
does he mean us?'

     Will remembered what Falling Star had said and frowned inwardly at
himself. He was a heron man too, now. So it did not really matter...

     ...but yet it did somehow, terribly. Will raised his head and looked
again into Nizano's cool blue eyes, like deep mountain lakes a man might sink
into and drown in, and trembled. Then he forced himself to look away, down the
trail.

     To the trapper's surprise, his averted eyes saw someone coming towards
them and Will stood up at once, in uncertainty. Nizano followed his glance and
raised a hand easily in welcome. A handsome heron man Will did not know came
up to them and embraced Nizano familiarly, once he had arisen.

     "Heyoka!" Nizano said with obvious delight. "What brings you this way?"

     "I have a message for Falling Star," the native said as he turned to
Will. "And one for you, also."

     Heyoka handed over a rolled up sheet, running his eyes up and down Will's
body appreciatively before turning back to Nizano. Then they began to converse
in the Elxa tongue together. Wondering what the message was, Will opened the
scrap of deerskin and read:

Fire wolf
Lies cold and lonely,
Burnin' with desire...

Come, Southwind,
Make me warm again
With your sighs...

     Will's eyes lingered fondly on Silas' signature. When he finally lifted
his eyes to Nizano, he meant to speak, but paused in sudden surprise. Heyoka
seemed to have vanished. The trapper glanced about himself, then up and down
the trail, but could see no trace of the heron man.

     Nizano's eyes were upon his companion, glittering slyly as if privy to a
private joke of some kind. Will wondered at what had just happened. But
somehow he knew it would be useless to ask any questions about the seemingly
miraculous disappearance.

     "It's from Silas," Will said at last. "I must go to him."

     "Of course. When two lovers share one heart, as you and Fire Wolf do,
each must go when the other calls."

     "It'll be very difficult to leave you, Nizano. I think I love you.
Differently than I do Silas, but just as strongly."

     "Is it a good feeling? Does it make you happy?"

     "Yes... yes, it does."

     Nizano nodded as Will answered.

     "I will always be nearby, my love," he said, placing a hand on Will's
shoulder. "If you ever need me, send me a message and I will come to you as
soon as I can."

     Nizano shot a glance at the sky.

     "If we do not stop at sundown, we could be at Roman Rock before
midnight."

     "But won't it be too dark to see?"

     "I have followed this path so many times, I know it almost as well as you
know your love for Fire Wolf."

* * *

     "Silas," Greg began as they were returning from the pond, "lemme show you
something."

     Taking Silas' hand, Greg guided his friend to a nearby tree. Then he
lifted the prospector's hand higher, to something suspended from above. The
object felt soft and feathery, had a pleasant smell, and seemed vaguely
ropelike.

     "What is it?"

     "It's a garland of flowers. It stretches from this tree to another
nearby."

     "What's it doin' here?"

     "It marks the entrance to a shanshasha."

     "What's that?"

     "Well, it's a sacred space, set up here temporarily."

     "Sacred? What do the heron men do in there? pray?"

     Greg laughed as he answered.

     "If you're askin' if they go down on their knees, yes!"

     "What're you talkin' about?"

     "When a heron man goes into the shanshasha," Greg began more seriously,
"he's sayin' to everyone: 'Here is my body. Come and touch me, love me.'"

     Silas stroked his red beard in thought.

     "You mean there are other fellas in there who are ready to make love?"

     "Yes. Our elders say the love made in the shanshasha raises power the
tribe can use to protect the land and all who live here."

     "Huh! I guess a lot of the guys here must take advantage of that."

     "The men who visit the Elxa to learn the Way of the Heron usually end up
goin' into the shanshasha. For many of them, it's the first time they've ever
been with a group of like-minded men, and they've usually got a lot of wild
oats to sow."

     "Sounds like a good deal."

     "Well, there are some rules you have to follow. You can have any man you
meet in the shanshasha, but then, anyone in there could have you too. You
couldn't refuse them."

     "I'm not exactly in a position to choose my pardners based on their looks
right now, anyway," Silas commented, "so it wouldn't work any hardship on me.
Is this the only one?"

     "No, there are others. They're all temporary. This one'll be closed soon
by the elders and the power raised in it will be released to bless the land.
Then another will be created somewhere else."

     "Did you wanna go in?"

     "No," Greg grinned as he put an arm over Silas' shoulder. "You're about
all I can handle for the time bein'! In fact, I feel as if I need another
nap."

     "Sounds good," murmured Silas as his arm came up Greg's back.

     The men returned the bunkhouse and stretched out in the big bed they
shared. Cuddling warmly, they held each other without expectation, knowing
their desire for each other could be indulged anytime. Soon they fell into a
light slumber, the sort of sleep that summons dreams...

* * *

     ...Silas was walking. He could feel the long grass under his bare feet,
feel the wind caress his naked body, as he moved towards the shanshasha,
knowing where he was going without seeing. Through his personal darkness came
the unintelligible whispers of many men, urging him on.

     He touched the feathery garland as he passed into the sacred space,
passing from the ordinary world into a place where flesh was the reality,
touch was the currency and love was the law. The masculine whisperers
surrounded Silas, touched him, their hands scampering like squirrels,
slithering like snakes, fluttering like moths' wings, exploring his body,
questing across his arms and chest and groin and legs. And under his own
fingers, a variety of male body parts passed, sometimes moving by too fast for
Silas to identify before they were gone.

     Senses beyond the five Silas knew kicked in and he comprehended the heron
men's sacred sex grove as a great geometric mandala, glowing green with the
incredible energy of life, a complex mosaic of living things, all existing
together in a symmetry that was beautiful beyond words. Grass, perfect like
the fields in the paintings of skilled artists, rich and shiny. Trees,
majestic brown trunks topped by clouds of green flames. And the luminous
masculine beings who moved about beneath those incredible trees, coming
together, separating, coming together again, in ever changing combinations...

     And the kisses, all the kisses ever bestowed by all the men who ever
moved in that sacred space, floating overhead like flocks of aethereal
butterflies, gorgeous beyond words. They sported, fluttered, frisked, these
lively ghosts of spent male passions, these protective spirits birthed in the
sacred shanshasha from the meetings of male lips. And they were not alone. The
echoes of loving whispers, intimate touches, passionate moans, shattering
climaxes, all had created their own unique spirit forms there and thronged in
the air, making it a kaleidoscope of masculine yearning and desire for those
who could see beyond the physical world, as Silas did then.

     Somehow Silas knew that when the shanshasha was closed and its boundaries
undone by the heron elders, all those pent up spirit forms would be released.
They would go forth in a cacophonous and sensuous rhythm, rising up, spreading
out like the ripples in a vast aetheric pond. Like the pounding of inaudible
drums, their vibrations would nevertheless be felt afar off. Spawned by
manlove, they would carry the power to protect the man-loving inhabitants of
the valley of the heron, and spill over into the lands beyond it to seek out
and touch other man-loving male hearts, to comfort and call and guide them to
their spiritual brothers.

     Thus these spirits, created and empowered by the caresses of gentle men,
would go forth to defy the scorn and neglect, the shame and indifference, and
the thousand other ways the world showed its contempt for those men who could
not find what their souls yearned for in the limited, one-size-fits-all
monogamous heterosexual relationships conventional society demanded. These
spirits conveyed hope and reassurance of an alternative, many alternatives, to
the world's hidebound strictures like a strain of music from a better world,
meant for those who could hear. Summoning those whose ears were tuned to
other, finer wavelengths...

* * *

     As Silas returned to wakefulness, he slipped his bandage and noted the
afternoon sunlight slanting through the windows of the bunkhouse. He replaced
the wrappings and turned his head toward Greg, his lips grazing the short
hairs of man's beard. The action caused Greg to wake up and regard his friend.
They kissed, their bodies shifting into a more intimate embrace, the prelude
to a slow bout of lovemaking that did not end until the western sky was
engulfed in the scarlet flames of sunset.

* * *

     "Damn!" Will ejaculated as he tripped over another rock.

     "Southwind? Are you alright?"

     Will stopped when he heard the disembodied voice. It emanated from
somewhere in the darkness ahead of him. When he responded, Will's voice
sounded full of disgust.

     "I think I'd better quit while I'm ahead. I almost broke my leg just
then."

     Will stood there a few moments in the middle of the trail, fuming. He
obviously could not go on and began to think miserably about another night
without Silas. But then he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

     "It's my fault, I should've realized you couldn't follow an unfamiliar
trail in the dark."

     "What'll we do?"

     "There's a small clearing nearby, Southwind. We can stay there until
morning."

     As Nizano said that, he started guiding his traveling companion. Will
grimaced then as he unexpectedly gained an insight into how Silas must feel.
Having to be led around in the dark, forced to trust the unseen hand that held
yours... At last they reached the promised sanctuary.

     At Nizano's suggestion, Will dropped his bedroll and sat on it while the
metiff kindled a fire. As the light grew, Will saw that they were nestled
among four enormous oaks. The firepit and a pile of wood lay on the
northernmost side of the rough square formed by the trees.

     Nizano had not been kidding when he called the clearing small. The two
men would be forced to sleep quite close. He glanced at Nizano, feeding the
growing flames with larger sticks, and wondered if that was what the heron man
had intended.

     'You're a fool, Will,' he chastised himself at once. 'You was the one who
stopped and this was the closest shelter. Nothing sinister or strange in
that.'

     The fire gave enough light for Will to see Heron Creek on the opposite
side of the path, so he got up to get some water. If Nizano had noticed him
going, he did not give any sign. Will knelt by the burbling stream and brought
handfuls of water to his lips, then splashed his face and rinsed his beard.

     He paused for a moment, uncertain what to do next. Then Will gave a
mental shrug and pulled off his shirt. He began to splash himself, rinsing off
the sweat from his chest and under his arms. Removing his pants, he waded in
and washed his cock and balls and backside. Logger shrank from the splashes of
cool water.

     'Don't be like that boy, I'll probably need you tonight,' Will thought,
caressing himself as he finished washing. 'Well, if it happens, I'll be clean
for him.'

     He picked up his clothes and turned to go back to the clearing. As he did
so, Will brushed past Nizano as the younger man was on his way to the creek.
The starlight falling through the trees showed Will that Nizano was naked as
well. He noted his companion's cock, a vague length in the semi-dark, swaying
heavily as Nizano passed by.

     Back by the fire, Will paused to bask in the warmth of the flames. He saw
that Nizano had prepared everything, even spreading their blankets out
together. Will got under them and waited.

     When Nizano returned at last, he stepped around the bedroll gingerly to
stand close to the fire. From Will's vantage point, he could see the inverted
vee of Nizano's legs framing the fire beyond. Tiny drops of water clung to the
metiff's smooth skin, catching the flickering firelight and sparkling like
minute diamonds.

     After a little while, Nizano knelt and got under the blankets. A cool
knee grazed Will's thigh, manflesh brushing casually against manflesh. Will
sighed, and he let his last reservations float away with the smoke from the
fire.

     "Did you go in the creek?"

     "Just to splash myself."

     "That water was plenty cold," Will said as he reached over to pull
Nizano's body closer to his. "Here, lemme help warm you up."

     "Southwind... "

     Nizano sighed the word as he relaxed into Will's arms. Then Will's lips
came down. They touched Nizano's face, his neck...

     By the light of the fire they made love slowly. Trying each other in
every way they knew, teaching, learning, exploring the possibilities in their
lovemaking. Each man took the measure of the other, and was satisfied, very
satisfied.

     By the time the fire had become a bed of livid red embers, with small
tongues of flame floating weightlessly across the glowing coals, the men had
exhausted one another. Cuddling closely and warmly, they fell asleep in each
other's arms. The distant stars watched silently and lovingly over the pair as
they slept.

* * *

     The next morning, Silas awoke in the bunkhouse and stretched, reaching
languidly out to hug his bedmate. He was looking forward to initiating a
leisurely bout of morning sex. But the prospector's questing hands soon
discovered that Greg's half of the blankets were empty.

     However, someone new, a physically larger man, was snoring softly on the
other side of the bed. Turning over slowly, Silas repositioned himself
carefully. Eventually, he was able to reach out and gingerly stroke an expanse
of warm, hairy flesh.

     'Hmmm. A pelt like that wouldn't be found growin' on no Injun,' Silas
thought as he fingered the silky hairs speculatively. 'This fella must be
another white man... '

     The sleeping figure suddenly gave a loud snort and rolled over, a big,
muscular arm flopping across Silas' chest, catching and squeezing the smaller
man lovingly. The stranger mumbled a name Silas did not catch and then went
back to breathing steadily, his nose now pressed against Silas' right ear. It
was then that Silas realized with a shock that the hairy part he had been
touching a few moments before was the man's back.

     'He's half-b'ar!' marvelled Silas. 'He must have more fur on his back
than I do on my chest! More than me and Will put together, by gawd!'

     Silas found the new position more than comfortable and relaxed against
the hairy stranger. Curious, he began to run his fingers up the massive arm
crooked protectively across his chest. Even relaxed in sleep, the muscles were
hard.

     'Half-b'ar and half-ox,' Silas decided, wondering at the potential
strength in that limb.

     The gentle breathing in his ear faltered, hesitated and then changed
rhythm. Silas was afraid for a moment that his tactile explorations had
finally woken the stranger up. But when his bedmate spoke, it was in a
sibilant whisper that showed he was still lost in his own, evidently erotic,
dreams.

     "Mark... my love... in you... lost to you, utterly lost... "

     'He must be dreamin' of his pardner... What the...!'

     Silas' mental exclamation came as his attention was suddenly drawn
sharply downward. He detected something large beginning to stir alongside his
thigh.

     'Now I'm the one who's dreamin'!' Silas wondered, awe-struck at the feel
of an impossibly sized phallus swelling and pressing against him. 'He's huge!
I ain't never felt one that big! Half-b'ar, half-ox and half-horse!'

     "Mark... "

     The breathy sigh blew hot into Silas' ear. Then the stranger's lips
touched him, bestowing the gentlest of kisses. Silas' manhood started to rise
in response, against his will.

     'Dagnabit, Driller!' he fumed mentally.

     "Lost in you... never before... " the stranger whispered, thrusting his
ever lengthening penis against Silas' hip, slowly.

     'If he tries to put that thing in me, I'm liable to split in two!' the
prospector thought in alarm.

     Silas carefully reached down with his free hand to touch the wide
cockhead. He was rewarded with a sticky dewdrop of the stranger's essence,
which he brought to his lips and tasted. It was salt-sweet and musky-strong on
his tongue.

     'On second thought,' he reconsidered, 'it might be fun tryin'. And if I
find I can't, well, there's always more'n one way to skin a cat, as they say!'

     The kisses on his ear grew more insistent, teeth gently nipping, tongue
tracing the auricular folds and creases wetly. Then the stranger inhaled
sharply, and Silas knew he had woken up. Without moving the arm that lay
across Silas' chest, the man pushed himself slowly up with his other arm, so
he could look down at his bedmate.

     'Damn! It's like bein' pinned under a blamed log!' Silas thought, feeling
the hot, heavy length of the man's incredible organ lying hard across his
lower belly.

     "Howdy, big'un," Silas said softly, breaking the silence.

     "Hello yourself," the reply was a quiet rumble, like distant summer
thunder. "My name's Phil Caddell. I didn't mean to... "

     "Hush. You was dreamin' something powerful there, friend, and I'm mighty
glad I was the one who you was up against when you did."

     Silas felt Phil's body tremble slightly.

     "You're Fire Wolf, Southwind's partner."

     "Yep. That or Silas Trent will do."

     'That thing of his is startin' to grow again!' Silas wondered. 'How big
is it!?'

     "I can go, if you want."

     "Don't," Silas said simply, lifting a hand to squeeze Phil's shoulder and
urge him back down.

     "You are a very beautiful man," sighed Phil, lowering his head and
kissing Silas' lips gently.

     'Guess I'll find out how big it can get... ' Silas thought as he
responded to the big man's desire.

* * *

     Later, cradled in Phil's arms...

     "Phil?"

     "Yes?"

     "Do you have a tribal name?"

     "Yes, Big Otter."

     "It fits," Silas smiled, ruffling the thick body fur Phil sported. "Do
you mind if I ask you a question?"

     "Of course not. What is it?"

     "The heron men recite a lot of poetry, don't they?"

     "Yes, that's so."

     "Well, I just composed a poem for you."

     "Oh?"

     "Yes. I think I'm gettin' the hang of it now. It was easy with you, all I
had to do was think of you and it just came to me."

     Phil breathed in deeply and sighed, a long exhale, before he spoke.

     "It will be beautiful, like you. I've always appreciated poetry, and I'm
honored to know that I have inspired you so much."

     "Well, here goes:"

I awoke to find you next to me,
Hairy as a b'ar,
A big arm drew me close,
Strong as an ox,
Your cock lay across my belly,
Longer'n a stallion's,
Your desire was wild,
Like a wild mountain goat's...

Beautiful b'ar-ox-stallion-goat-man,
Take me,
Take me...

     There was pregnant silence for awhile and Silas began to think he had
said something wrong. Then he heard Phil sigh again as the big man's arms
hugged him tighter. Silas felt Phil's bewhiskered lips come down and brush the
inside of one ear. His breath was hot.

     "Silas, oh Silas! That was beautiful," he exhaled.

     "So are you."

     "You don't know what it means to me to hear you say that."

     "Don't anybody else ever tell you you're beautiful? Don't Mark?"

     "How'd you know my partner's name?"

     "You were talkin' in your sleep earlier."

     "Oh. But to answer your question, yes, Mark does tell me I'm beautiful.
Often. But I don't ever tire of hearing it. From him or anyone else."

     "What's his tribal name?"

     "Dark Fire."

     "Oh! He's the one who's been helpin' Greg build this bunkhouse."

     "That's right."

     "I wish I could see you. Iffin' you look half as good as you feel, I
think I'd be struck blind again by your beauty!"

     "Now you're exaggerating," Phil chuckled. "But you're still very sweet.
Here's a song for you:"

Long ago on a distant mountain,
A beautiful boy was seized,
By an eagle who took him to heaven.

Now I lay on this mountain land,
And seized by a red wolf,
I too have visited a place of delights.

     "That was a right nice song," said Silas as he scratched his red beard in
mild puzzlement. "But who was the boy you mentioned in it? I don't believe
I've ever heard his story."

     "His name was Ganymede," Phil began. "And he was so beautiful that Zeus,
the king of the gods of ancient Greece, fell in love with him. One day, as
Ganymede kept his father's sheep on Mount Ida, Zeus took the form of an eagle,
swooped down and carried Ganymede off to Mount Olympus, the home of the gods.

     "Zeus made him immortal so that Ganymede's beauty would never fade, and,
if you wish to believe it, he still lives with the gods as Zeus' cupbearer and
lover. As a humorous footnote to the myth, Ganymede's name means 'happy
genitals' in Greek."

     "You know Greek?"

     "I learned it in my youth."

     "Geez. You're a mighty educated cuss, Phil."

     "Measured by the standards of white civilization, yes, I suppose so. I've
studied at Oxford and Cambridge, as well as a couple of large eastern
universities in America, but I'd always felt a fascination with the western
half of your country... "

     "It's your country too, ain't it?"

     "Not really. I'm an Englishman, Silas. I haven't given up my
citizenship."

     "Why not?"

     "I have ties with my home country that are... um... difficult to break."

     Silas wondered what Phil meant, but was silent and let the man go on.

     "Anyway, I finally went to see the west, and when I passed through
Oregon, I found the heron men and stayed. They taught me how to survive here,
how to hunt and trap, as well as their beliefs regarding manlove. Sometimes I
think I knew nothing worthwhile at all before I found the Elxa and came to
understand the Way of the Heron. It's such a different way of life, I felt...
Well, here's part of another poem that describes how it made me feel:"

I cannot be awake,
for nothing looks to me
as it did before.

Or else I am awake
for the first time,
and all before has been
a mean sleep.

     "I'm not sure I'll ever understand it," Silas shook his head. "It was
fun, playin' with Mayati and Greg and you, but Will was always there, in the
back of my mind."

     "Did it feel good or bad?"

     "It was a good feelin', like I was sharin' what I was doin' with him.
Something sorta like that."

     "Hmmm," Phil began.

...the touch of my lover
echoes in the touch
of all my brothers;
all of us sharing
the same loving spirit...

     "That was part of a song Falling Star taught me. It means all our
experiences are shared. When we open to them, they deepen our understanding of
the Way of the Heron."

     "Is that the way it is for you too?" Silas asked. "Sharin' your feelin's
for Mark with the other heron men?"

     "And my feelings for them with Mark, too. When we're together again,
we'll show each other how we have grown, deepening into our love, and the love
of our brothers."

     "Huh! I can see it, I think. I'll have plenty to share with Will when he
gets here, that's for sure."

     Phil smiled and went on.

     "Just as Will's the man your heart yearns for, my heart yearns for Mark.
And I can share that love freely with my heron brothers, for they know and
understand our experiences, sharing them without the taint of possessive
feelings. An outsider might think it meant that my feelings for Mark were
shallow and light-minded. But they are not."

     "One thing still bothers me a little though," puzzled Silas. "How can you
be with someone else and yet not feel guilty about them not bein' your
partner? Or deal with knowin' your partner is off with someone else?"

     "You mean jealousy? I and most of the other white heron men have had to
struggle with that at first, until we un-learned the concept. The native heron
men do not even have a word for that emotion. They find it difficult to
understand why anyone would seek to restrain one's lover, treat him like a
possession, a captive, to demand from him faithfulness and monogamy in a
relationship."

In all the giving,
In all the sharing,
There is
The Way of the Heron,
The way to freedom...

     "How," Phil asked, after his short poem, "could any of us truly be free
if we deny freedom to the very people we profess to love?"

     Silas nodded in agreement at that and Phil went on.

     "The bond Mark and I share is beyond guilt and possessiveness. We don't
own each other, nor would we want to. We are secure because we know deep in
our souls that we will always come back together, no matter how far apart we
might wander.

     "My commitment to Mark is the center of my life, as is his for me. We are
not afraid to acknowledge the intense emotions we provoke in each other,
privately or publicly. May I ask if you feel that way about Will?"

     "Yep, I do. I might not've quite realized it before, but after bein' here
and learnin' from the heron men, I sure understand it now. For the past year,
whenever Will's gone away, he's always come back to me and every time we bond
as strongly as the first time we met, yet there was always this part of me
that couldn't quite believe what we had was real. That part of me's dead now,
dead and buried, thanks to what I've experienced here, with you, Greg, Mayati
and the rest of the heron men."

     "So you have played with some of us, but afterwards you still want to go
back to Will?"

     "Yep. It's like you fellas have given me so much love, I think I'll just
bust unless I give it back, to Will and to all of you."

     "That is one of our secrets, Silas," Phil whispered. "The great poet
Shakespeare expressed a similar idea in one of his works:

My bounty is as boundless
As the sea
My love is deep
The more I give to thee
The more I have
For both are infinite...

     "Give, Silas, do not take. It is in the giving of ourselves that we grow
and become stronger spiritually. It is a paradox... "

     "A what?"

     "A truth that doesn't seem to make sense," explained Phil. "If you only
take, you will have less than you had before, but if you give, you will find
you have much more than before you gave."

     "Huh! It makes sense to me."

     "That's because your spirit is Elxa," Phil crooned, running a big, hairy
hand across Silas' body, caressing his skin from shoulder to thigh, a slow,
tactile journey, over muscular bulges and furry ridges. "And you are very
beautiful."

     Silas sat up and began undoing his bandage.

     "What are you doing?"

     "I want to look at you."

     "But why?"

     "I don't wanna hafta tell my pardner you was the biggest one I never
saw!" he laughed.

     "But your eyes... "

     " ...are gettin' better all the time," Silas finished. "And I know
they're good enough now to get a decent eyeful of you."

     Taking the bandage off, Silas blinked and looked. Greg had built a
couple of windows into the bunkhouse and bright morning sunlight was
flooding in through them. Silas squinted against it.

     At first everything was fuzzy, like the day before. But little by
little, Silas began picking out the details of his bedmate's body. A
heavily brown-bearded, kindly face, hairy arms, muscled like a
blacksmith's, a broad chest darkened by a curly pelt, a knotted belly,
worthy of Hercules himself, thickly fleeced with dark brown, soft fur.

     Again, Silas' eyes fell down, to the deeper darkness of Phil's crotch,
from which sprouted a breathtaking penis. Even in its quiescent state, the
massive tool was awe inspiring. It lay arched heavily across one muscular,
hairy thigh, away from Silas, its hooded tip dangling just out of sight. In
awe, Silas looked up and locked eyes with Phil.

     "I had that inside of me?" he managed in a suddenly weak, squeaky
voice.

     "Oh yes," Phil whispered, lowering his head to give Silas a gentle
kiss.

     "Damn!" muttered Silas distractedly.

     He looked at Phil's genitals again. Then, as if to convince himself of
the reality of what he was seeing, Silas reached out to touch them, slowly
running his fingertips up from the ample, furry ballsac, along the smooth,
pale shaft, and eventually to the loose foreskin that slid easily over the
moist, rose-colored cockhead underneath. Enjoying the attention, the great
tool stirred and started to plump up and grow again. Phil murmured contentedly
in his bedmate's ear.

     "I hope you're not afraid to try taking it the same way again sometime in
the future, my friend."

     "No, why would I be?"

     "Even among the heron men, who profess to know all that there is to know
about mansex, there are some who fear I might hurt them."

     "You're too gentle-natured for that, Phil. I can see it in your eyes... "

     "So you can see me clearly?"

     "I sorta have to concentrate on it."

     "Well don't strain your eyes, here."

     Phil reached over to pick up the bandage. Just then, a knock came at the
door. Phil called for whomever it was to come in as he replaced the
prospector's bandage.

     "The sun is high, Fire Wolf. Will you lie in bed all day?" Silas heard
Wiscoup'a say, in a mock-scolding way. The prospector thought fast and replied
through a broad grin.

     "Wouldn't you, if Big Otter was in the bed with you?"

     Phil tried to keep a straight face. He watched as Wiscoup'a looked from
Silas to him and back again to Silas. A muscle in Wiscoup'a's cheek quivered
as the heron man composed himself.

     "You are not a wolf, you are a coyote, always joking and playing tricks!"
the native tried to say sternly. However, he could not keep his voice from
betraying the amusement he felt. "Come now, Fire Wolf, and let me change your
bandage!"

* * *

     "There's Roman Rock, Southwind," Nizano pointed. "Follow this path and
it'll take you to the tribal fane, where the common cookfire is kept. Anyone
you find around it will be able to lead you to your partner."

     Will blinked. "Aren't you coming any further, Nizano?"

     "No. I must return to the cave of mysteries. Falling Star told me before
we left that he needs my help with Sees Far."

     "Oh... Well, thank you for guiding me here... and for last night... "

     Nizano touched Will's bearded cheek gently and smiled.

Memories of the night
when the Southwind blew
across my breast
will never be forgotten...

     The trapper hugged Nizano to himself tightly and whispered fiercely in
the younger man's ear.

Nor will I ever forget
the way your blue eyes
beckoned to me
the way a mountain lake beckons
to a thirsty, footsore traveler...

     "We'll meet again, my friend," Nizano sighed, obviously moved by Will's
song. "And I'm sure I won't be the only heron man who finds you desirable,
Southwind. Be well."

     Nizano turned and started back the way they had come. Will stood and
watched the receding figure until it was lost amid the trees that lined Heron
Creek. A quiet farewell played on his lips briefly, then he headed for the
Elxa settlement.

* * *

     This time, Silas donned his pants for the trip through Roman Rock. Once
he had a new bandage, Wiscoup'a led him to join Greg beside the fire for some
breakfast. Greg clapped a hand on Silas' back good-naturedly as he sat down.

     "Howdy, pardner."

     "Where'd you get to this morning?" Silas asked.

     "When I woke up and saw who'd crawled into bed with us durin' the night,
I figured I'd leave and let the two of you get acquainted, private-like."

     "Huh!" Silas answered, digging into a bowl of hot stew that Greg had
handed him.

     "Did you have fun?"

     "Yep," Silas sighed, still very aware of the sweet, residual tingling
deep in his rear end.

     "Phil is a real nice cuss... Here he comes now."

     "What's in the pot this morning?" he asked as he sat down on the other
side of Silas.

     "Well, whatever it is, it's good," Silas managed through a savory
mouthful of stew.

     "Mmmm. Sure is," Phil agreed after he took a slurp of the rich, warm
broth.

     "Hey," Greg began, as he spotted a stranger approaching the cookfire. He
looked to the heron man like Will, whom Silas had described to him earlier. "I
think your partner's here."

     "Will?" Silas asked, suddenly excited. "Take me to him!"

     "There's no need, he's seen you and he's comin' over here," answered
Phil.

     Will stepped up behind Silas and put his hands on his partner's bare
shoulders, squeezing familiarly.

     "Will... "

     Will knelt and kissed Silas, a deep, long kiss. Silas knew what it meant
and felt Driller twitch in anticipation. Will released him after a bit,
licking his lips.

     "Whatever you're eatin' sure tastes good, pardner."

     "Here," Greg said, handing Will another bowl. "I'm Greg Walsh, or Tavani,
and that's Big Otter."

     "Hello, Will. Here, have a seat," the big man said, moving over to open
up a space next to Silas.

     "Will?" Silas grinned as his partner sat down, "I got another song for
you:"

Oh, I once knew a Logger,
and a Logger knew me,
a big, handsome fella,
grew inside me like a tree.

He tempted my Driller,
my Driller came out,
and that Logger fella,
found out what it's all about!

     Silas laughed as he finished and Will, not to be outdone, thought quickly
and responded:

Oh, I tempted your Driller,
your Driller came out,
and pardner I tell you,
he really dished it out!

He drilled and he drilled,
that Driller done did,
so long and so hard,
he nearly broke my bed!

     "What's a logger and a driller?" Greg asked, scratching his head in
perplexity while the two men laughed like fools.

     Will explained, to Greg's amusement, and to the rest of the listening
heron men as well. Silas leaned over and pressed himself against his partner
and Will put an arm around him as he ate. The pair were the picture of
contentment.

* * *

     Later that same day, Silas lay on his back in a mountain meadow, the
sweet smell of the tall grass growing all around mingling pleasantly with that
of male sweat and semen. Will lay next to him, as exhausted as Silas was by a
bout of lovemaking. The afternoon sun shone down warmly on their skins as
their breathing returned to normal.

     "Silas?"

     "Yep?"

     "I was told your sight is comin' back."

     "That's right."

     "I was thinkin', we might not have to stay here this winter. We could go
home, take along enough starflowers to finish your cure. That is, if you want
to."

     "I tell you, Will, there's a part of me that would like to stay. But if
you want to go, I'll follow."

     "I want to be alone with you, the way we were last winter."

     "That sounds good to me. Listen:"

I'm so lucky,
and proud,
to be your man,
and I know
you feel you're mine;

It's a sharin',
a bond,
that's bone-deep,
and spirit-tight,
lastin' for all time.

     "That was nice, Silas. I have something I'd like to tell you too."

I know you,
So I know love.

I touch you,
And I feel love.

You show me,
In so many ways,
What love is:

It's a feelin'
So much bigger
Than the two of us.

     "Yeah," Silas began. "Our love is big enough to include the heron men,
isn't it?"

     "Their love was big enough to welcome us into their society. I don't feel
as if I could do any less for them."

     "It'll be a little hard to leave the men here. Neighbors like them are
hard to come by."

     "We'll be back in the spring," Will said, thinking of Mayati.

     "Yeah," Silas echoed, thinking of Greg. "So, when do you want to leave?"

     "Would tomorrow be too soon? We've still got a lot of work to do around
our home before winter begins."

     "That'll be okay."

     "Oh," Will began, sitting up and reaching for his pants.

     "What?"

     "I almost forgot to give you something," he said as he rummaged around in
the pockets. "I have a gift for you from Falling Star."

     "Lemme see," Silas exclaimed, rising and slipping his bandage up.

     "I know you must be gettin' tired of bein' in the dark all the time,"
Will chided his lover in a mock-weary voice. "But you mustn't use your eyes
yet."

     "I just want a peep," Silas replied as he saw Will produce something dark
and round, strung on a rawhide cord. "Hey! It's a Elxa glyphstone, just like
yours!"

     "Yep," Will said, placing it about Silas' neck with a kiss before yanking
his partner's bandage back down into place. "Falling Star says you're a heron
man now too."

     "Next spring, I'll have to go see him myself," Silas murmured
thoughtfully, fingering the stone.

* * *

     "Wait here a minute, Silas. I forgot something," Will said, the next day.
"I'll be right back."

     Once Silas' ears told him he was alone, he slipped his bandage up and
squinted against the bright morning sunlight that was shining down on Roman
Rock. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the light did not hurt his eyes
as much as it had the day before.

     He knelt in the corral and looked over the mules' harnesses with a
critical eye. Will and he were almost ready to begin the journey back to their
isolated cabin. While Silas was busy checking to see if the packs were bound
securely enough, a touch on his shoulder brought him around. It was Greg,
frowning disapprovingly.

     "You ought not be usin' them eyes, pardner."

     "I know," Silas sighed contritely as he pulled the bandage back into
place.

     "You goin'?"

     "Purdy soon now. Will's longin' to go home, so we're headed back to our
cabin for the winter."

     "Oh."

     "I'll miss you, Greg."

     "And I'll miss you, Silas."

     The two men hugged fiercely.

     "You recall what I said earlier, about my singin' not bein' too good?"

     "Yep."

     "Well, I have a song for you anyway," Greg said.

The touch of you is like a dream,
Filled with fire and desire;
When again we are a team,
Our minds and bodies will conspire
To search out what the heron way means;
We will touch, and love, and perspire
Under the spring sun's beams...

     "Damn, that was nice, Greg! It even rhymed, sorta. You do sing good!"

     "I guess I was inspired," Greg said, blushing suddenly.

     Silas reached out and found his friend's body with his arms, enfolding it
lovingly, drawing him close. The hairs of his beard rasped across the insides
of Greg's ear sensuously as he spoke. His words came out in a hot, breathy
whisper.

Two red-headed brothers,
We're sure a pair,
Playin' and wrasslin'
Like a couple o' b'ars!

Sleep well this winter,
And keep up your strength,
For springtime's comin':
Then I'll gauge your length!

     Greg just hugged back harder in reply.

     "You ever gone prospectin'?" Silas asked, after a moment or two.

     "No... "

     "You're welcome to come with me next year, if you like. We'll spend the
time nosin' around the rocks at the head of Heron Creek, beyond the cave of
mysteries. I'll see Falling Star and have a medicine vision and we'll make
love in the canyons and on the hillsides, under the moon and stars... "

     "Silas, I... "

     "You don't hafta decide now, Greg, I'll be back in the spring, and then
we'll see... "

* * *

     Noon was just past when the pair reached the camp by the pond on Heron
Creek where they had met Mayati. Will and Silas stopped there, deciding to
spend the night at the pleasant spot. Silas insisted on removing his bandage
long enough to help Will build a fire. Just as the flame caught and began to
grow, the prospector looked up and saw a sight that raised the hairs on the
back on his neck.

     "Will," he managed, trying to keep his voice low and even as he pointed
across the nearby pool with a shaky hand. "Look!"

     Will's eyes followed where his lover indicated and he saw an enormous
bear moving slowly along the opposite shore of the small lake. Its fur was
pale, ghostly in the afternoon sunlight. It paused briefly and turned its
massive head to gaze at the two amazed men with weirdly lambent amber eyes
that seemed to gleam and glitter with pinpricks of golden light.

     The travelers also saw what appeared to be a cloth sack hanging from the
beast's neck, swaying as it moved. This odd tableau held for a few moments as
the bear and the men studied each other in the twilight. Then the great beast
moved on, to vanish among the trees.

     "Well I'll be... " Silas muttered. "That musta been that Ghost-Bear
critter Red Hand told us about!"

     "Silas, I swear it winked at us!"

     "Well, I'll have to take your word for that," Silas said as he put his
bandage back in place and sat by the fire. "My eyes ain't good enough yet for
such sharp seein'."

     Will sat beside his lover, taking him in his arms. "Then give them a
rest while I cook us some supper."

     Silas kissed Will. "Hmm. Too bad we can't live on love."

* * *

     "Here we are."

     Will helped Silas off Daisy. As he pulled down some hay for her and
Matilda, Silas felt for the door and let himself into their cabin. He
breathed in the familiar odors and relaxed, feeling the relief common to
everyone who reaches home after a long absence.

     Silas slipped his bandage long enough to fire up the cookstove and put
a pot of coffee on, before sitting down to wait for Will to join him. He
smiled to himself as he thought back on their journey home. Two days of
love and laughter and sleeping together under the stars.

     "Hey, pardner," Will called as he came in and hugged Silas where he
sat, holding Silas' head against his belly. "You hungry? I could go out and
scare up some fresh meat."

     "It'll be dark soon. Besides, we've still got some of that jerky the
heron men gave us... "

     "I been gnawin' on that stuff all day," said Will, making a face.
"It's gettin' old! But you're right, I'll have to wait until tomorrow to
go huntin'."

     "Well, if you really want something else... " Silas began, slipping
his bandage and going to a pack of supplies he had brought to the cabin
before their adventure with the heron men had begun.

     "Silas... "

     "I know, I shouldn't be lookin' at things yet. Ah!"

     "What have you got there?"

     "It was supposed to be a Christmas present, but I see no reason why we
shouldn't celebrate now."

     Silas plunked a parcel wrapped in brown paper on the table.

     "What is it?" Will asked as Silas replaced his bandage.

     "Open it and find out."

     Silas heard the sounds of paper tearing and rustling. Then a gasp of
surprise followed. Will's warm lips were suddenly on his, kissing him
happily.

     "A ham! I ain't eaten pork in months!"

     "I knew you'd like it."

     "I'll heat some of this up for us. Thank you, Silas! That was real
thoughtful of you."

     As they ate, the sun sat and the mountain shadows lengthened to
encompass their cabin. As the light failed, the skies shaded by degrees
through hues of blue to deep purple and at last into deepest black. By
the time the moon rose, the heavens were an ebony velvet canopy, spangled
with a million diamond chips.

     The meal done, they retired to their bed, barely illuminated by the
light shed by the fire imprisoned behind the grille of the potbelly stove.
Will's arms enfolded Silas tenderly and as they kissed, the two Elxa
glyphstones they wore touched, clicking softly against one another in the
semi-dark. The polished stone amulets echoed the dim glow of the firelight,
illuminating love's fulfillment.

* * *

THE END

* * *

of Return Of The Heron

the fourth story in the series

'The Way Of The Heron'

by C. T. Creekmur

comments or suggestions are welcome at tcreekmur@hotmail.com

Copyright (c) 2009 by Charles T. Creekmur

"All Rights Reserved"

submitted to www.nifty.org