Date: Thu, 22 Jan 2009 19:27:15 -0800
From: Tom Creekmur <tcreekmur@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Way Of The Heron - Chapter 14 - Part 2

* * *

The Way Of The Heron

By C. T. Creekmur

Chapter Eight

Follow The Heron's Song

Part II

* * *

     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: Most of the action in this chapter happens between
late April of 1868 and early May of 1868, but at the end, it follows one
particular group of heron men's activities on to the winter of 1868 - 1869.

     All civilized comments, suggestions or criticisms are welcome at
tcreekmur@hotmail.com

     And now, on with the story!

* * *

- Day 4 - April 28 -

* * *

     In a camp somewhere along the lower Umpqua, at the wooded edge of an open
meadow, a sleeping man awoke with a start. Phil looked up into the sky, noting
the first tinges of dawn-light that were coloring the east. Then he turned to
the sleeping man who shared his blankets. Moved by what he saw, Phil spoke,
just above a whisper.

I watch thy grace; and in its place
My heart a charmed slumber keeps,
While I muse upon thy face;
And a languid fire creeps
Thro' my veins to all my frame,
Dissolvingly and slowly...

     "Hmmm... Phil?" Mark muttered as he woke up. Phil ran a large hand across
his lover's broad chest, stirring the night dark hairs that grew there, but
continued to lightly chant the apt ending to the verses he was quoting.

...soon
From thy rose-red lips my name
Floweth; and then, as in a swoon,
With dinning sound my ears are rife,
My tremulous tongue faltereth,
I lose my color, I lose my breath,
I drink the cup of a costly death,
Brimm'd with delirious draughts of warmest life.
I die with my delight, before
I hear what I would hear from thee.

     "Good morning to you too, pardner," Mark grinned.

     As he said that, he rolled over and pressed his lean body closer to
Phil's. The big trapper's massive arms enfolded Mark and held him with a
fragile tenderness that made the cowboy ache with desire. Mark rubbed his nose
in the vast hairiness of the other man's chest and breathed in his familiar,
exciting scent.

     "I ought to quote Tennyson more often, if that's how it affects you,"
Phil grinned. Then, sounding more serious, he went on. "I believe I've had a
medicine dream, Mark."

     "Really? What was it about?"

     "I was at the cave of mysteries and saw Falling Star, or a spirit that
was using his form, standing on a cliff high above me, telling me to hurry on
to Port Bolon."

     "Did he say why?"

     "Yes, he wants me to check on someone there."

     "Are you goin' to go?"

     "I believe so. I have the feeling I must not ignore his request."

     "I wouldn't either."

     "Mark, will you come with me?"

     "Of course, pardner. I wouldn't want you to ever be lonely... "

     "Thank you... "

     As Phil whispered that, gratitude was audible in his voice. They kissed
lightly and shifted positions, grinding their bodies together. Phil became
aware of a growing pressure against his belly.

     "You ready again... ?"

     "I can't help it," Mark whispered, looking into the trapper's eyes. "I
purely love you, Phil."

     "Mark... "

     In response, Phil kissed his friend again, and then turned to burrow down
under the warm blankets they shared. Mark began to moan softly in pleasure as
he felt first Phil's hot breath and then a hotter flexile wetness wrapping
itself mirifically around the shaft of his stiff cock. He moved to lay his
head on the trapper's massive thigh and drew Phil's tumid length into himself
with his lips and tongue, feeling the warm flesh respond and swell to fill his
mouth...

* * *

     In the spirit realm, the Heart Call's coruscating violet love-light
slowly ebbed away. All objects there were returning to their normal, gently
lambent glow, but the aethereal energy summoned by Hun Tzu and his friends had
left its mark on that reality. Now the auras of everything there were somewhat
stronger, showing how they had been nourished by the numinous wave of
otherworldly energy.

     One great oak tree in particular stood majestically at the edge of a wide
meadow. Its enhanced radiance towered protectively over two weary men who held
each other, lying on an outspread blanket at its wide base. A visible sexual
afterglow continued to adorn their sweat and semen stained astral bodies long
after their exertions had ended, but their desire had not been appeased quite
yet...

     "Bill?"

     "Mmmm?"

     "You want to... again?"

     "You plumb wore me out, Leroy," Bill Axford yawned, "lemme just lay here
and hold you for awhile longer. It feels real nice... "

     "Okay. Between your love and the power we experienced, I ought to have
enough energy now to do what I hafta... "

     Again, Bill felt too relaxed and pleasant to feel curious about Leroy's
words and remained silent. For him, there was only gentle breathing, two
hearts beating, his warm skin touching his lover's warm skin. The warmth grew
as the golden sun rose again to flood the spirit realm with its splendid
light, but did not disturb the two men's intimacy. Their comfortable closeness
went on for an unknown amount of time, perhaps for an eternity, for time
seemed to be reckoned differently in that other world, until Leroy breathed
softly in his companion's ear...

     "Bill?"

     "Huh?"

     "Stay in your camp for another day. Help's comin'."

     "I don't need any help."

     "I didn't say it was for you... "

     "Whatcha mean?"

     As Bill asked that question, he turned his head and opened his eyes to
look at Leroy. But only his camp showed itself to his gaze. Again he saw it,
bathed in ordinary sunlight and swept by a cool wind from the mountains that
sighed through the trees. Bill sat up at once in mild surprise and squinted
through the swaying tree branches overhead at the angle of the sun.

     'Damn! It's almost noon!' he marvelled, 'I ain't slept this late in
months... '

* * *

     "Well I'll be! Trev Barker! What brings you here?"

     Matt Able called out a greeting to his friend as he entered The Trail's
End, the sole saloon in False Pass. Robert Vaughn, the sheriff of the town,
and his lover, Chris Barlow, were right behind him. Then, spotting the two
handsome young strangers who trailed along behind as the group sidled up to
the bar, Matt grinned mischievously and went on.

     "Looks like someone's got their hands full."

     "Don't be cheeky, Matt," Robert growled in his best no-nonsense lawman
attitude. "Just give us five beers. And hold the sass."

     "Ain'tcha gonna introduce me?" the saloon keeper asked in a mock-hurt
tone as he drew the beers.

     "Eric Vaal, Zeb Alden," Trev began, "this is Matt Able. He runs the most
honest saloon around these parts."

     'Probably the only saloon in these parts,' thought Eric wryly, looking
around, 'I've got to admit though, it's a lot cleaner than the saloons I saw
in Grant.'

     As Zeb and Eric took turns shaking his hand, Matt ran an appreciative eye
up and down the two newcomers. Trev noticed, and decided to play with the
randy bartender a bit.

     "Ya know," began Trev slyly, sipping his beer, "Matt's quite famous
hereabouts. Some folks call him Eight Dollar Jack... "

     Chris snorted in his beer. Robert smiled. Eric and Zeb looked at each
other in mystification. Seeing their puzzled faces, Chris leaned over and
whispered a quick explanation, eliciting grins from the two men.

     "Do you have to tell everybody that nickname?" Matt burst out fiercely,
looking more amused than upset, before turning back to the onlooking pair of
newcomers, "Polite folks around here call me just plain Mr. Able now."

     "I'll say they do!" came a voice from the back room. "Able and willing!"

     Everyone looked to see a young man's grinning head stuck out the
partially opened kitchen door. Matt instantly grabbed a bar towel and threw it
at the interloper. He gave a little scream of laughter before disappearing.
The wet towel's flight ended against the door with a loud splat.

     "Who... " began Zeb.

     "That's Ralph," Trev explained, "Eight Dollar Jack's pardner."

     "You call me that again, Trev, and the next thing I throw won't miss!"

     "Sorry, Mr. Able," Trev said, his apology sounding quite insincere. If
Matt noticed, he did not have time to react to it, as Sheriff Vaughn spoke up
just then.

     "Say, Matt, did anything peculiar happen around here last night?"

     Matt looked at the sentinel with startled eyes.

     "From your expression, I can see something did happen," Robert observed.

     "Can you tell us about it?" asked Trev.

     "No! It was personal!" Matt exclaimed at once.

     "Maybe we should ask Ralph," suggested Chris.

     "Someone call my name?" the youth responded gaily, bouncing out of the
saloon's kitchen.

     "Anything odd happen around here last night?"

     "Well... "

     "Don't you answer that!" warned Matt.

     "Whatever you say will go no further than this bar," Robert reassured
Ralph.

     "In a pig's eye it will!" swore Matt. "If it's one thing the heron men
are known for, it's for bein' the most gossipy, nosy bunch of low, down
tattletales this side of the Rockies! Why... "

     "Look who's talkin'!" Chris laughed. "After the way you stuck your
nose in when Robert and I first hooked up! You had the whole town
celebratin' our 'marriage'!"

     "Yeah, with a fancy cake and everything!" chuckled Ralph. "All
decorated with dainty little guns and lawmen's stars!"

     Matt tried to respond, but just sputtered in irritated confusion. Zeb
and Eric took a seat at an empty table nearby. They found their companions'
antics quite a floor show.

     "Hush, Matt. I'm serious," Robert interrupted. "Something happened to
all of us last night and we want to know if something similar happened in
town."

     "While you was havin' sex?" Ralph asked, his pale blue eyes wide with
surprise.

     "Yep," Trev said.

     "Like something was spurrin' you on, makin' it better than it'd ever been
before?"

     "That's right."

     "I told you!" Ralph said in a triumphant tone as he turned to Matt. "I
told you that it wasn't just us! Why you didn't believe your own eyes is
beyond me!" Ralph turned back to the others and went on, explaining. "The men
who were in here when it happened just went crazy for sex, and took each other
right on the tables! If you felt it too, then mebbe everybody in town did!"

     "Well, we certainly did!"

     It was a new voice that spoke up. The group turned to see who it was.
They noticed four men and two teenagers eating breakfast at a corner table in
the back of the saloon for the first time.

     "We had us one hell of a good time last night, the best, eh?" Nick
grinned, laying a big, dark hand on his partner's shoulder and squeezing it
affectionately.

     "Si," Felix replied happily through a mouthful of sausage and eggs. "Last
night was mucho caliente! I tell you, I sure am plenty hungry after last
night!"

     "We had a good time, too, eh, Lo?"

     "I never felt anything like it," the Chinese youth sighed, before kissing
Alex. "And I'm glad you were with me when it happened!"

     "It was something," Russ Seton agreed, "wasn't it, Doc?"

     "Wow!" wondered Trev as he watched Cy Orwins blush and nod affirmatively
at his partner. "If we all felt it, at Chris's place and here, then maybe the
folks at Roman Rock did too."

     "I think they did," Robert said. "I mean I felt something else last
night, like there were others with us, sharin' our experiences. And those
others seemed like they were our fellow tribesmen."

     "Well, you are a tribal elder of the heron men," Chris pointed out.
"Maybe that gives you more insight into what happened than the rest of us."

     "It'd be interestin' to hear what Falling Star has to say about this,"
added Matt.

     "Well, we'll find out soon enough," Robert declared. "We're goin' up to
Roman Rock to find out more about this... this... whatever it was that
happened to us!"

     "Can we go too, Nick?" Alex asked his big brother excitedly. "Lo and me
have been wantin' to go ever since you told us about the heron men!"

     "I know," sighed Nick. The boys had been bugging him about it for quite
awhile. "If Sheriff Vaughn agrees, and you solemnly promise to do whatever he
says... "

     Lo jumped up in excitement and went to Robert.

     "We'll be so good for you, sheriff, you'll see!"

     "Yes, we'll do anything you want!" Alex added, putting stress on
'anything' and winking for good measure.

     "Well!" Chris grinned at his partner. "That's sure a hard offer to turn
down!"

     "A man would have to be a fool to pass this chance up," Robert agreed.
"And they don't spell fool R-O-B-E-R-T! Pack what you need, boys. We're
leavin' here as soon as we get some breakfast!"

     Lo and Alex cheered and ran off to get what they would need for the trip.
Ralph turned to go into the kitchen to cook up five more plates of eggs and
sausage. And Robert looked at Nick.

     "Don't worry about them, Nick. We'll look after them."

     "If I'm worried about anyone, it's you," he laughed. "Those two are a
handful and then some!"

     "Si!" Felix crossed himself. "I will say prayers for your safe return!"

* * *

     "Job? Wake up."

     "What? Ohh... "  the young man groaned sleepily.

     The teenager's eyes vainly attempted to focus on the face of the
grinning, red-headed man who stood over him. Job was surprised to see strong
sunlight slanting into the cabin's window. It hurt his eyes. Uttering another
plaintive groan he rolled over, burying his face in a pillow.

     "Looks like you're the one who needs his rest, this time," Silas
chortled, with more than a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

     "What time is it?" came the muffled response.

     "Almost noon," Silas replied, unable to resist the urge to reach out and
caress Job's exposed ass, running a randy hand over the delectable, pale
globes as he went on. "I've been up for awhile already. I thought I'd better
check on you before I went outside to work on the barn foundation."

     "You sure sound chipper today," Job commented, turning over and
stretching languidly.

     "Yep," chuckled Silas, eyeing the lad's long, limp cock, lying across
Job's thigh to dangle its hooded tip just beyond where the prospector could
see. "I'm not entirely sure, but it might have something to do with you. That
was some ride you took me on, last night!"

     "Silas, what happened to us?" Job asked, becoming more alert. "There was
something else here, spurrin' me on, makin' me feel so good... I dunno how to
describe it!"

     "I dunno either, but I do know where we can find us some answers. We'll
ride for the cave of mysteries tomorrow."

     "Where? The mystery what?"

     "The cave of mysteries. That's where Falling Star lives," Silas
explained. "He's the chief of the heron men. If anybody knows what's happenin'
around here, he does."

     "Why don't we leave today?" yawned Job.

     "I promised Will I'd work on the barn foundation while he was gone and
I'd like to do a little more so he won't have a reason to complain when he
comes back."

     "Why would he do that if he loves you?"

     "We love each other something powerful, Job, but bein' in a relationship
isn't all roses and sunshine! But you'll find out about that when you have a
lover of your own!"

* * *

     "Dan? Yves?"

     Eben Hale called to his old friends, Dan Epps and Yves Rebour, as he
pushed open the door of their isolated cabin. When he saw the door had been
left ajar, Eben was concerned. He had been sent to check on the elderly men
who lived there.

     "Back here."

     Following the response, Eben circled the cabin. He found the pair behind
it, in their garden. With them was another tribesman, who Eben knew both as
Sees Far and Asa Sykes.

     "Hi, Eben," Dan called.

     "Hello," added Asa.

     "What's up?"

     "Oh, we're just having a look around," Yves explained. "We had a visitor.
One other than Asa here."

     "Who?"

     "Not who," the elder said, pointing at the ground. Eben looked and saw
some enormous, familiar-looking bear paw prints in the dirt.

     "Whoa!"

     "It was the Ghost-Bear," Dan began. "I saw him."

     "We all did," added Asa.

     Yves scuffed at one of the tracks with a moccasined foot in mild
annoyance. "I don't mind sharing this valley with him, but he could at least
stay out of my garden!"

     "It's not like he hurt anything," Dan added. "He just came up to the back
door and then went back into the woods. I suppose Falling Star would call it a
blessing of sorts."

     "Er," Eben started, wanting to change the subject, "Tlaccotan asked me to
check on you two, because of something that happened last night... " Yves and
Dan both stiffened. "I see it must have happened to you too."

     Dan looked at his lover and Asa as he spoke. "It was wonderful. Yves and
I, well, we felt like young men again for awhile, and when Asa here joined us
a little later, well... "

     "I can imagine," Eben smiled. He was thinking of the intense love he and
Zack had shared, before Zack had gone on a 'run', what the pair called it when
they transformed into their werebeast forms and patrolled the area around
Roman Rock. Eben briefly wondered why Zack had come so close to their friends'
cabin, but Dan's voice interrupted his reverie.

     "So we weren't the only ones?"

     "The whole tribe felt it, or so it seems," Eben responded. "Tlaccotan is
calling for a meeting of the elders. He asked me to tell you of it and
accompany you to Roman Rock. He says he would be honored if you would share
his lodge while you're there."

     "Give us a few minutes and we'll be ready to go," agreed Yves for the
group.

* * *

     Mayati, Hun Tzu and Tolatil waited in hiding, silent and attentive. On
the surface of Heron Creek, not far away, a goose hunted, plunging its long
neck deep down into liquid green, seeking food, unaware that there were others
nearby who were similarly engaged. It withdrew its head from the waters and
sat perfectly still, just for a moment.

     In that instant an arrow flew, transfixing the bird. It reflexively
thrashed about in the midst of the waters, but there was no possibility it
would get away. The shot had pierced its heart.

     "Bravo, Tasokah!" Mayati cried as he and the others splashed into the
verdant creek and brought the bird to shore. "You are an excellent marksman
with the bow!"

     "I must learn this skill," Hun Tzu murmured.

     The geomancer pulled the arrow from the bird's body. Handing the goose to
Mayati, Hun Tzu dipped the weapon into the creek to clean it. A small cloud of
blood floated away downstream. As he handed the arrow back to Tasokah, Hun
Tzu's eyes fell on the arrow's notched end, noting the unique detail.

     "The featherings on your arrows are blue."

     "I make my arrows with blue heron feathers, for luck," Tasokah admitted
with a wide, winning smile. Hun Tzu was moved to speak.

How splendid he was!
The hunter who met me on my way,
Sending his arrows with skill and grace,
And wounding my heart with his glance.

     Tasokah reached up and caressed Hun Tzu's bearded cheek, a gentle reward
for the apt verses.

     "You sing as a heron man does," murmured Tolatil.

     "It was just a poem I learned in my youth," Hun Tzu admitted. "My
adoptive father, Wei Fei, made sure I knew all the Chinese classics of prose
and verse. Especially those that spoke of men of our nature."

     "He knew you were... "

     "Yes, Tasokah. He knew because he also shared our nature."

     "Shall we continue on our way?" asked Tolatil.

     "Yes," Mayati began. "Let us go now. By nightfall we shall reach another
camp, very close to Roman Rock."

     "And tonight?" Tasokah asked eagerly. "Shall we make the Heart Call
again?"

     "Perhaps we should wait and confer with Falling Star, first." Mayati
suggested, casting a glance at Hun Tzu.

     "I agree," he replied. "The power we summoned was strong, stronger than I
expected. It would not be wise to tap into such a potent force again without
warning our brothers ahead of time. And speaking of warnings, the evil thing I
saw through the lo-pan... "

     "You saw the demon again?" asked Tasokah, in an apprehensive voice. Hun
Tzu had told him and Tolatil of the things he had seen with the help of his
lo-pan.

     "Yes, but do not fear. When I consulted the lo-pan again, I saw other
forces, good ones, moving to intercept the demon. And I saw this spirit of
evil will not come any closer to the valley of the heron. The lo-pan tells me
strange things I do not understand about this demon, that it is hunting for a
yellow bird! However, I think your tribal elders should know of it, as soon as
possible."

     "Perhaps," Tolatil began thoughtfully, "we could reach Roman Rock by late
tonight if we leave now and do not stop."

     "Yes," answered Mayati. "I think that would be best."

     The others agreed and were soon on their way to the Elxa's main
settlement.

* * *

     "Hello? Anybody home?"

     Jeff paused at the entrance of the Purple Stables. He peered into the
darkness, waiting for a response. Then he stepped inside.

     The air within was cool and heavy with barnyard odors. Jeff breathed them
in, reliving childhood memories of growing up on his family's farm and the
things he and his brothers would do up in the hay lofts, learning from each
other the pleasures their young bodies could give them... Before he could
dwell for too long on the past though, he saw a shadowy form moving towards
him.

     "Can I help you?"

     "I'm lookin' for Hiram Calhoun."

     "You've found him," Hiram said, coming closer. "Say, I think I know you.
You're Jeff Symms, aren't you?"

     "Yes, I didn't know you knew of me."

     "Only from some of the other merchants."

     "Oh?"

     "You do odd jobs around town."

     "That's right."

     "I've heard good things about you. What can I do for you?"

     "Well, I wanted to ask you about something that happened last night... "

     "Last night?" Hiram asked, wondering.

     "Yeah." Jeff paused, and then spoke again. "Do you know what I'm talkin'
about?"

     "Maybe," began Hiram cautiously, "but how do you figure I would know
anything about it?"

     "Before I came to Grant," Jeff explained, "I sorta drifted, spending some
time in the settlements along the upper Willamette and got to know quite a few
fur trappers and woodsmen there, men who had spent a lot of time up in the
Cascade mountain wilderness. They told me a lot of tall tales. May I tell you
one of them?"

     "Sure."

     "It's a story about an old Indian, a wise chieftain who lives in a remote
mountain cave and sees many things in his dreams. He has many followers, men
from other Indian tribes, mostly, but over the years some white men who share
their nature have also been initiated into his tribe. They're called heron
men. And this," Jeff said, as he reached up to lightly tap Hiram's exposed
Elxa glyphstone pendant, "is their symbol."

     "So you know about us."

     "Only the stories I've heard, but I kept hearin' the same good things
from so many different sources that I believed them. And then, when I saw you
around town wearin' that stone, I figured I'd finally run into a real heron
man. And if there was anyone who'd know about what happened the other night,
it'd be you."

     "It was wonderful, wasn't it?"

     "Yeah, but what was it?"

     "Well I hate to disappoint you Jeff, but this stone doesn't give me
second sight. All I can tell you is what I felt last night, and it felt like
all of my heron brothers reachin' out to touch me, to love me, at the same
time."

     "So you don't really know what it was," Jeff said, sounding a little
disappointed.

     "Listen," began Hiram as he threw an arm over Jeff's shoulder, "why don't
you and your pardner... "

     "You know about Don?" Jeff started.

     "You ain't the only one in town with eyes that can see," chuckled Hiram.
"Don't worry though, I don't think it's public knowledge."

     "I wouldn't care if it was," Jeff declared. "I'm not ashamed of the fact
that I love Don, he's a good man."

     "I know that, from dealing with him at the bank. You're a lucky man."

     "And so are you, if what I suspect about you and Lars is true."

     "It is," Hiram admitted proudly. "But listen, why don't you and Don come
over here this evening, after Lars comes back, and we can all have a talk
about the heron men. I suspect Falling Star would be happy to meet both you
and Don."

     "Fallin' what?"

     "Falling Star. He's the 'old chief' you've heard about, though he ain't
really so old."

     "Alright then. We'll see you and Lars tonight."

* * *

     Somewhere in the hills to the southeast of Silas and Will's isolated
cabin was a rock formation they called the Devil's Pulpit. From a distance, it
looked to be nothing more than a jumbled pile of large stones. But if one
followed the pictoglyphs left by previous visitors, they would find its
secret.

     To anyone climbing up along one particular side, and passing through the
gap left when a multi-ton boulder was sundered in some primordial seismic
event, there would be revealed an unexpected sight. A small oasis of grass,
low bushes and trees, stood hemmed in by the surrounding rocks, like the
courtyard of a castle. Bill Axford had found his way to this well-sheltered
spot the previous day. Now he was relaxing before a small fire.

     'I wonder how long I've got to wait here.'

     Bill was pondering the parting words of the spirit of his friend Leroy
Byrd, who had asked him to stay in that camp. As he mulled the request over,
he slowly turned a spit. It held just two skinny rabbits that he had snared
earlier. The sun was still up, but the clouds had begun to take on pale orange
tints as evening approached.

     Suddenly, something made Bill look up. A pair of eyes, in the wooded
shadows beyond the edge of his camp's clearing, were watching him intently.
Bill jumped up to his feet at once, but did not reach for his guns.

     'If he'd wanted to hurt me, he coulda done it before now,' Bill realized
at once as he faced the newcomer.

     The shadowy figure stepped forward. He was a native, clear-eyed and
muscular. There was a long scar marring his left shoulder, starkly pale
against the coppery skin. His face was like a mask, holding no discernible
expression, but Bill found him to be a very handsome man nonetheless.

     "You are a heron man."

     The newcomer stated the fact in an even voice that was as devoid of
emotion as his face. Bill's hand went to his glyphstone. He was wearing his
shirt unbuttoned and the dark pendant was visible. Then he saw a similar stone
hanging around the native's neck and relaxed.

     "Yes, I am. My name's Bill Axford."

     "I am Katchikoa."

     The speaker turned and stooped, retrieving two bundles of supplies and
bringing them closer to Bill's campfire. Unfolding one, the skin of a deer
recently killed, Katchikoa offered meat. Blood still oozed from the cuts,
fresh and brilliant red in the sunlight.

     'He musta killed and butchered that buck nearby, and I didn't hear
nothing!' Bill mused, taking the meat gratefully. As he did so, he eyed the
sturdy bow and quiver full of odd, blue-feathered arrows among Katchikoa's
gear.

     "Our brother Tasokah made those arrows you seem to admire," noted
Katchikoa. "He makes the featherings from blue heron plumes. He believes they
bring the hunter luck."

     "Well, you sure had some good luck today," Bill nodded at the deermeat.

     Bill went to cut more branches for spits while Katchikoa fetched his
horse from somewhere outside the natural fortress and set it loose to join
Bill's steed in the tall grass. It was not long before the air of the camp was
savory with the aroma of roasting venison. The men sat before the cookfire in
silence for some time, then Katchikoa reached out to turn a spit, and spoke.

     "I have not seen you before."

     "I was in the valley of the heron only for a little while, last
September." Bill explained. "I met Tolatil and he... er... introduced me to
your tribe's ways."

     "Have you been to see Falling Star?"

     "Yes, Tolatil guided me to the cave of mysteries to speak with the
shaman."

     "So... our chief gave you a tribal name?"

     "Yes, Il-Xochitl."

     "Ahh!" the native breathed in surprise. "Yes! Many like myself know of
you only by name. You are the flower-in-autumn! And here you are, blooming out
of season in the spring sun!"

     Katchikoa smiled for the first time. It made him even more handsome in
Bill's eyes, causing his cock to stir restlessly in his jeans. The native
picked up a stick and poked at the glowing coals of the fire absently. Bill
looked at the heron man expectantly, waiting for him to go on. When he did
not, Bill spoke up.

     "Excuse me? I don't understand."

     Katchikoa proceeded to tell Bill about his recent medicine dream. Bill
listened intently. When the heron man finished his story, Bill sat back with a
thoughtful look on his face.

     "Yellow bird... " Bill mused quietly, almost to himself.

     "Do you think you know what it means?"

     "Well," he began hesitantly, "I have a friend who's named Job Byrd, and
he has blonde hair, but I don't know where he is."

     "Hmm," Katchikoa pondered the new information. "If my dream is true, he
may be nearby... "

     "I've been wantin' to find him, because Leroy told me... "

     "Who is Leroy?"

     It was Bill's turn to explain. He related all he had seen and felt over
the last couple of nights. Katchikoa was grave and thoughtful when Bill
finished his tale.

     "Your visions explain much about the odd happenings of late."

     "You felt the effects of the Heart Call too?"

     "All of our heron brothers did, though we did not know that the
phenomenon had a name," Katchikoa answered, surprising Bill. He went on, half
to himself. "And perhaps it was also felt by every man in this country whose
nature is the same as ours."

     "Huh!" managed Bill, trying to imagine how far the mystic energy he had
witnessed had traveled.

     "Your dreams are powerful and beautiful, like yourself," Katchikoa
whispered.

     "Thank you." As unprepared as he was for the complement, Bill managed to
return it at once. "And I find you handsome as well."

     "That is good," the heron man said, reaching for a spit, "for I look
forward to the night, and imagine the games we might play."

     Bill watched Katchikoa as he ate, strong white teeth flashing in the
firelight. Then he moved to take a spit himself. He bit into the hot meat and
chewed slowly, considering the man's invitation.

     'Better eat hearty,' he thought. 'Looks like I'm gonna need all my
strength tonight... '

* * *

     Because he was anxious to find out what had happened to him the previous
night, Mel made good time and pushed into Roman Rock by noon with Lou in tow.
However, the heron men there knew little more than Mel or Lou did. Mel stashed
the supplies he had brought in one of the outbuildings at the encampment and
then suggested to Lou that he could lead him to the home of Falling Star if he
wished.

     Lou accepted at once, grateful that he would have another day or two of
Mel's companionship to enjoy. They left Roman Rock after a brief lunch,
following Heron Creek northeastward. Traveling on horseback, the miles passed
quickly. They passed by one campsite that looked perfect to Lou. It lay before
a pool above a small waterfall and Mel mentioned that it roughly marked the
halfway point between Roman Rock and the cave of mysteries. Taking advantage
of the daylight, the men continued on. Just as the sun was setting they
reached another camp, sited where Heron Creek widened into a small pool.

     Tidying up the deserted camp, Lou cleaned out the firepit, gathered wood
and started a blaze while Mel waded into the creek, spearing fish. They ate
well, finishing as twilight's shadows deepened, shading into pure night.
Later, Lou stroked his companion's long black beard gently and rhythmically as
they lay together, feeling the hard chest underneath, relishing a contentment
Lou had no words for.

* * *

     Silas straightened up and looked over his handiwork. Within a rectangle
defined by taut strings, a pair of low walls were taking shape. Gaps in the
stonework showed where future barn doors would be, opening to the east, west
and south.

     Will had shown his lover how to lay rock and Silas saw no reason for Will
to complain. The unmortared stones were as tightly fitted as anything Silas
had seen Will build. Still, he eyed the construct critically, looking for
imperfections in the stonework as the afternoon shadows inched across the
small mountain valley he called home.

     'Hmmm,' Silas thought at last. 'I don't see how Will could find any fault
with what I've done so far... '

     "Suppertime!"

     Job's voice sang out and Silas turned to see the lad beckoning to him.
Job had gone out to hunt soon after Silas had awakened him. After a couple of
hours, Silas had seen him return with a small sack of kills. Job had gone to
work in the kitchen at once.

     As he continued laying the stones, Silas had caught whiffs of the lad's
cooking from time to time, all afternoon. By now his stomach was growling in
anticipation of supper. After putting away his tools, Silas took a quick dip
in the nearby pond to wash off the sweat before he headed for the cabin, his
mouth fairly watering.

     "Whatcha got for me?" Silas asked, sitting at the table.

     "Well, I made up a stew with rabbit, squirrel, and possum, and found a
patch of wild garlic to season it with. And I found some potatoes in your
larder too, so I added a few to the mix. I call it 'varmint medley'!" grinned
Job

     "Smells delicious," Silas said, inhaling the pungent aroma rising from
the steaming bowl Job pushed towards him. "They're really gonna appreciate you
at Roman Rock. The fellas that live there keep a big pot on the fire all the
time, sharin' the cookin' of whatever the hunters bring in. The catchall's
been different every time I've been there, but never quite as good as this."

     Job looked very pleased with himself when he heard that. He turned back
to the stove and loaded two more plates. Then he brought them to the table
with a mischievous grin.

     "There's biscuits, and fried fish."

     Silas eyed Job's smirk and the ample pile of steaming fillets
suspiciously.

     "You sure caught enough of 'em," he observed cautiously. "You partial to
fish?"

     "Well, they're for you, actually," Job grinned. "I mean I've heard that
fish is good for a fella in a run down state, like when he's... well, had too
much fun!"

     Silas glowered in mock-menace at the lad over his supper. He had expected
something like this, another sly trick. But he had to admit it was humorous.

     "Job, you oughta know by now not to tease me while I'm eatin'!" Silas
muttered, trying not to smile. "Sit down and have some fish yourself. You've
been enjoyin' yourself just as much as I have around here lately!"

* * *

     Unknown to the men, a pair of eyes burned in the falling night. Mueller
watched Job and Silas dining from nearby cover, opposite the cabin's only
window. As he glared at them, his thoughts were crimson and murderous, less
than human, driven by an unrelenting hatred.

     'I've found you at last! Tomorrow I'll... '

     Instead of finishing the thought, Mueller sank his knife into the tree
growing next to him. Expertly, he peeled off a narrow strip of bark, cleanly
exposing the white wood underneath without marring it. After the keen blade
had passed, tree sap welled up to gleam wetly in the wound.

     'Tomorrow, Job. Tomorrow... '

* * *

     All during that day, it happened that wherever there were two heron men,
there were questions exchanged about what had happened. Spontaneously, the
members of the tribe began to travel, heading for Roman Rock. There, they
intended to confer with the elders and find an explanation of the erotic bliss
that had touched them.

     By noontime, more and more Elxa tribesmen were arriving in the
encampment. It was at their tribal fane, its sacred center, where they all
hoped to learn the reason for the exotic, wondrous sensations they had
experienced. Though Tlaccotan could offer the newcomers little in the way of
answers, he found many other, less spiritual concerns to busy himself with.

     As Tlaccotan was the chief elder of the Elxa tribe after Falling Star, it
was natural that he took charge. The influx of men during the day quickly
filled the lodges and Tlaccotan directed latecomers to camps set up in the
surrounding woods and meadows. He and Tavani organized hunting parties, as
well as recruiting cooks, to make sure no one went hungry.

     Despite the heady mystery that had drawn such a throng to Roman Rock, a
rather gay atmosphere quickly came to dominate the impromptu gathering as the
returning heron men encountered old friends and met new ones. As the
festivities went on into the night, it was not immediately noticed when
another four men came up the path from a spot beside Heron Creek where those
who had come by canoe would beach their vessels. Their rapid trek over at
last, the foursome spread their blankets out beside a firepit dug under the
leafy boughs of a great maple tree some distance from the tribal fane. Soon
they were coupling and twining lovingly by the light of a low campfire and a
nearly full moon.

     Hun Tzu held Mayati, whom he thought had quickly fallen asleep, and
listened to Tasokah's low, whispering moans of pleasure. The moonlight showed
his neighbors' blankets moving rhythmically. Tolatil's upper body was touched
with a ghostly silver, propped up stiff-armed, whispering words of love as his
hips pistoned, sinking into Tasokah, pulling out, and driving in again... Hun
Tzu's cock was hard and aching to be touched, but he made no move to do so,
not wanting to disturb his partner.

     Mayati stirred then, silently, throwing back the blankets, curling
downward, resting his head on Hun Tzu's belly. The geomancer felt his rigid
wand being pulled into a numinous realm of heat and moisture and sweetness. It
was his turn to writhe and moan in ecstasy as his partner's tongue and lips
brought him to orgasm, the essence of his love leaping forth, nourishing his
lover.

     Mayati continued to milk and swallow, until Hun Tzu's soft manhood fell
from his mouth. It lay supine upon his belly, glistening wetly in the
moonlight. The heron man turned to straddle the pale, lightly furred chest of
his bedpartner at once, precum oozing from the native's dark, stiff member,
drops of savory cockjuice falling, trailing glistening strands that tangled
themselves in the hair on Hun Tzu's chest, then in his beard. Moon-touched, it
looked like liquid nacre, the consistency of honey. Hun Tzu looked up at his
aroused partner and opened his mouth.

     "I love you," he said, simply and with a sincerity that came from the
depths of his man-loving soul.

     Then he took the native's cock into his mouth, gently, completely. Mayati
gasped and groaned as his hips moved, seeking his release as Hun Tzu slurped
and tongued his most sensitive flesh. Mayati found he could not hold back for
long and came hotly, filling Hun Tzu's mouth with his burning seed, which the
geomancer drank down gratefully. Mayati fairly collapsed back into their
shared blankets and almost as soon as they had pressed their exhausted bodies
together again, the pair fell asleep.

* * *

     "Mel."

     "Yes?"

     The man realized he was having a medicine dream when he opened his eyes
and saw he was elsewhere. It was not the first time he had visited the place
the Elxa called the spirit realm. He looked about himself, at the tall grass
that gently swayed in the breeze, growing around the brilliantly violet
blanket he found himself lying upon. A nearby myrtle tree whose leaves
fluttered like the wings of excited birds sheltered two men, as naked as Mel
was. Mel studied the pair, but did not recognize either.

     One was a wiry white man, long haired and bearded, with a generous growth
of body fur the same pale blonde color. The other man was Hispanic, but of a
distinct type Mel had encountered earlier in his life, when he lived in the
southern part of California. The face was oval, the eyes large, dark and
alert, the nose thin, slightly aquiline, the mouth and lightly bearded chin
firm. The face of a man of character.

     He was undoubtedly a purebred Castilian, a member of that quasi-noble
class who owned vast ranchos and elegant haciendas throughout the American
southwest. Many of them were finding themselves dispossessed by the tidal wave
of settlers from the east, losing their lands and their way of life. These
proud families had eschewed intermarriage with the natives, preferring to
marry among themselves or arraign for Spanish ladies to come to the New World
to be their brides, so that their Asturian blood might remain pure.

     The pair moved towards Mel as he looked them over. The Hispanic man spoke
again. Mel realized his had been the voice he first heard.

     "Hello, my brother," he began. "We have a request."

     "Tell me. I'll do whatever I can."

     "Rise in the morning, as early as you can, and push on to the cave of
mysteries. Lou must meet with Falling Star as soon as possible. His vision
quest may serve to save the life of one of our brothers."

     "Of course. I'll do as you say. May I know who you are?"

     "We are heron men who have shed our mortal bodies and live here, now. I
am Blue Badger... "

     "I've heard the stories about you," Mel interrupted, a bit in awe of the
legendary chieftain.

     "Then you know of the mystery I discovered and was unable to pass on to
my heron brothers. But at last another has come who comprehends the forces I
discerned. He will lift our tribe to another level of power... " Blue Badger
paused and shook his head. "Forgive me, I did not mean to speak of this now,
for time is short and there are more important things to deal with." He
gestured to his companion. "This is Leroy Byrd."

     "Hello," he smiled.

     "Leroy has a great task to accomplish, one no heron man who has tasted
death has ever done. I and others here will support him, but Lou's spirit
quest will help him even more in his endeavor. So be swift, my brother, and
bring Lou to Falling Star as quickly as you can."

     "I will do it, I promise... "

* * *

     "...promise what?" Lou whispered in the dark.

     "I'll tell you tomorrow," Mel breathed back as he opened his eyes and
saw he was once again in the starlit camp with Lou. The men kissed, shifted
and settled back into a warm, restful cuddle. Sleep took them again into its
gentle embrace.

* * *

- Day 5 - April 29

* * *

     Lou awoke abruptly from a deep, dream filled sleep. The shock of the
sudden transition from sleep to awareness was followed by confused thoughts,
and Lou frowned to himself in irritation, unable to recall what he had been
dreaming about. But his annoyance vanished when he remembered where he was and
who was with him.

     Mel was pressed up against his side warmly, his head pillowed by Lou's
left shoulder. His left arm lay crooked across Lou's chest, the hand wedged
firmly below the armpit, clutching tightly and securely. The man's long, black
beard prickled against Lou's chest pleasantly, as did another lengthy part of
Mel's anatomy, making itself known in a different way down lower, along Lou's
thigh.

     The feeling was wonderful. Lou moved a hand slowly down his bedmate's
side, reliving the passions of the night past. He halfway hoped Mel would
awaken for a reprisal of that joy.

     But the steady, peaceful breathing continued. And, as Lou waited, the
call of nature came to him, and grew insistent. Reluctantly, he gently freed
himself from his partner's embrace.

     Rising from the blankets they shared, Lou stood up in the semidark of a
newborn morning. He glanced at Heron Creek curiously, wondering at the change
in its appearance since yesterday afternoon. Banks of heavy mist were hovering
over the rippling stream, rising and thinning as they drifted away from the
whispering waters.

     Only a few stray wisps of fog stood between Lou and his need as he strode
naked to a nearby tree and pissed. He sighed, feeling sweet relief deep in his
loins as a steaming amber stream blasted against the ragged bark and foamed
its way down to the ground.

     The blank pleasure of that moment was replaced slowly with something more
profound. Lou felt influenced by the comfortable silence of the early morning,
or perhaps, the beauty of the land itself. It might even have been due to the
company he had been keeping lately, with men whose inner strength allowed them
to be gentle, whose love for themselves allowed them to love others so freely.

     Whatever it was, it seemed to whisper to Lou out of the drifting mists,
out of the trees around him, out of the memory of every caress given, every
kiss received, in the recent past. It was a wordless welcome. A welcome home.

     There was a part of Lou that had never felt at home anywhere. A part
connected to the desires he had always had, the ones society thought wrong and
judged bad and unthinkingly condemned him for. A part connected to a deep and
profound loneliness he had felt all his life, an ache, an unfulfilled yearning
for... something he had no name for.

     Not just physical love, the ruttings, the friction, the release, no,
although he had spent many years pursuing such things and learned their worth
in the process... Lou glanced at Mel, still asleep, felt the simple pleasure
of knowing the man was nearby, and suddenly thought, yes... yes, the deep
bonding, yes, the quiet, peaceful knowing and being known, yes, the touch that
could not be given by anyone else, yes...

     He understood it then. This was the place where Lou could find those
things, heal the open wounds of his spirit, balm them with a love worthy of
the name, join hands with other men who had gone through what he had gone
through and understood his need, labor and journey and play with them, trust
them... This was his home...

     The connection to the land that he felt empowered him. Lou turned,
viewing his surroundings again with new eyes. He realized he was looking at
his true home and was moved to murmur softly to the misty morning.

Here I shall find
my spirit's rest
Here I shall find
my heart's ease...

     Lou paused in surprise, wondering at what had come over him. But as soon
as he had begun to ponder it, the inspiration was gone. Try as he might, he
could not think of an ending to the song he had begun, but it did not bother
him too much.

     Lou gazed again at Mel, wondering if he could be the one, the companion
who would make his joy complete in this land. Then Lou remembered Mel had a
lover already, a man named Larry, in Port Bolon. The discordant thought
shattered the magic mood he had been in and Lou turned his eyes away from the
sleeping man, distractedly.

     He walked towards the edge of the fog-shrouded pool formed by a widening
of Heron Creek. Lou could hear the rushing of the water as it pushed through a
crack in a moss covered boulder, the obstruction that made the pool. The water
was moving, running away to a distant sea. He stuck a toe in the water
experimentally, and was pleasantly surprised by its warmth.

     Looking around, Lou finally spotted what he half-expected to see. A
steaming rivulet joined the creek on its opposite side, the overflow from one
of the many hot springs in the valley of the heron. He smiled at the sight.

     Lou waded in, then dunked himself in a deep spot. There was not room
enough to swim, but he could float on his back, letting the warm water cradle
him. He was feeling very relaxed when a bit of color bobbing in the water
caught his attention.

     "What's that?" he muttered to himself.

     He took the object out of the eddy it had been caught in and examined it.
It was a twig, perhaps seven inches long and almost an inch in diameter. It
had been dyed a bright yellow first before a narrow strip of its bark had been
carefully removed, creating a white spiral that twisted around and down its
length.

     Lou was about to go back to show the curious object to his companion. As
he started to go, he saw Mel approaching the pond. The man had just woken up
and was still stretching and scratching himself as he neared Lou.

     "We have to go soon, Lou," he yawned. "I had a medicine dream last night.
We have to get you to Falling Star as quick as we can."

     "Is that what woke you up last night?"

     "Yes... What have you got there?" Mel asked, spotting the colored bit of
wood Lou held.

     "I just found it in the water."

     "It's a talking stick," Mel said as he joined Lou in the water and
stifled another yawn at the same time. "The heron men use them to communicate
with those who live along the river."

     Lou studied the unlikely-looking bearer of news.

     "What does it mean?"

     "That one's a council stick. Falling Star is calling for a gathering of
the Elxa tribe at Roman Rock, in a few days. I see now why we have to hurry,
so you can see the chief before he leaves the cave of mysteries."

     "Okay," Lou replied. "Too bad we don't have time to fool around in this
pool though. The water feels good."

     "But not as good as you," murmured Mel, kissing his companion as he put
his hands to work.

     Lou got the idea and they scrubbed each other by running their hands all
over each other's bodies. Agreeing to skip breakfast, the men pulled their
clothing on over damp skin and readied their horses to ride. Soon they were
far from the campsite, the bulk of Zoraxte looming above them as they neared
their goal.

* * *

     Job bustled around the cabin naked, fixing breakfast. Silas sat
sleepy-eyed at the table, just as naked and enjoying the bright sunlight that
shone through the window and warmed his skin He watched the lad move about
with a faint smile. Silas had meant to get up early, but Job had made it
difficult for the man to leave the bed they shared.

     'That young'un's gotta ass that won't quit... ' Silas thought as he
yawned and stretched, feeling the rough floorboards under his bare toes as
well as a deep, pleasant lassitude in his loins.

     He grinned in appreciation when Job brought him coffee. Leaning back, he
reached into a bin behind his seat. Silas pulled out a bottle of whiskey and
dribbled a little of the pale brown liquor into his cup. It was a little extra
kick he liked in the mornings.

     "That sure looks tasty. Can I try some of that?" asked Job.

     "Ain't you a little young for hard liquor?"

     Job grinned at the man and recited.

You say I'm too young,
You say it's too hard,
When it comes to drink...

But I'm not too young for you,
And you're not too hard for me,
When it comes to man-to-man love!

     "Well I'll be! You can sing!"

     "You're a pure inspiration to me, Silas," laughed Job.

     "I'll always remember that I was the first man you ever sung to," Silas
murmured.

     "I... I'll remember it too," managed Job after an awkward moment or two.

     A blush colored Job's cheeks as he spoke those words. Silas was moved by
Job's reaction, by the thought that this lad who had seen and done so much in
his young life had just discovered a new sort of virginity to give away. To
his surprise, Silas felt Driller twitch and begin to grow, filling with a
renewed desire for Job...

     "Okay," Silas said, pouring a shot of whiskey into Job's coffee. "I guess
you do deserve a reward for a song like that."

     Job picked up the steaming cup and sipped from it. Silas watched, waiting
for his reaction. Job nodded vigorously as he swallowed.

     "That's just as tasty as it looks."

     "That's not all that's tasty around here," Silas smiled, pushing his
chair away from the table to show Job his hard pecker. "Look what you've gone
and done to me, by runnin' around the cabin nekkid like that!"

     Job's answer was to immediately straddle Silas' lap, facing the man and
lowering his ass onto Driller. The heron men's special salve still coated his
innards from earlier lovemaking sessions the pair had shared that morning,
keeping everything slick and ready for more fun. Silas' stiff phallus slid in
easily to the hilt, provoking rapturous feeling for both men.

     Finding himself so happily impaled, the pleasure Job felt - a pleasure
that was enhanced by Silas himself, for whom Job had conceived a love like
that he had for his cousin Leroy or the heron man they had met in Maury City,
Bill Axford - was indicated by his long rod. It swiftly swelled and rose to
press and rub against Silas' crimson furred chest as they moved together on
the chair in their shared journey towards joy. Silas divided his ardent kisses
between Job's lips and the tip of his impressive phallus, nibbling on the long
foreskin and thrusting deftly into it with his tongue to caress the swollen
glans hidden within.

     When the lad gasped, teetering on the edge of the ultimate, Silas skinned
the prepuce back with his lips and subjected the sensitive, naked tip to a
powerful suctioning and tongue lashing. Job cried out in a passionate pleasure
that bordered on pain as Silas swallowed the younger man's seed gratefully.
Job's sphincter tightened in a series of sweet pulsations, driving Silas
towards his release as well. Gripping Job's hips firmly, Silas growled
fiercely around the spurting rod that gagged him as he shot his burning spunk
deep into Job. Once their breathing had returned to normal, the pair
reluctantly disengaged and turned their attention back to mundane matters like
breakfast.

* * *

     "So you think we ought to go and visit your friend Fire Wolf, to find out
if he's seen or heard anything about Job?" Bill asked quietly, almost in a
whisper.

     He and Katchikoa lay wrapped in each other's arms. The native made an
affirmative sounding grunt but stayed where he was. Bill did not feel much
like moving either. The previous night had been a busy one for them and both
men were feeling too comfortable, too languidly spent to abandon their
amorously entwined position just yet.

* * *

     After eating, Job left the cabin in high spirits, still without his
clothing. The sun was already high and warm on his skin. He thought happily
about the romp he had earlier with Silas, feeling a sweet, residual tingling
in his asshole. He petted Alice, reaching over the corral fence to scratch an
ear, and whispered.

     "Gotta ride today, girl. We're gonna go see the heap big heron chief!"

     Alice snorted softly and her eyes widened. In the large, dark, shiny orbs
Job could see the reflection of movement behind him. Thinking it could only be
from one source, he began to turn and speak.

     "Silas? Wha... "

     A stunning blow and black oblivion greeted Job...

* * *

     Lou and Mel rode hard and reached the cave of mysteries well before the
sun had risen above the treetops. Zeke was the first to see them coming and
was glad to see the familiar face of his heron brother Mel. But as his gaze
alighted on Mel's companion, a great bubble of sadness seemed to rise
spontaneously up out of his heart, and a tear formed and fell.

     Sensing something was wrong, Falling Star came outside and saw the
newcomers. He looked at Zeke and reached out to touch the tear that hung on
his cheek, at the edge of his short brown beard. The shaman embraced Zeke
tenderly.

     "Gently, Nizano, my son... "

     "Do you feel it?"

     "Yes. This stranger who comes is our brother, yet he cannot hear our
music and it saddens you."

     "Yes."

     "Strengthen yourself. I will need your assistance when we send him on his
vision quest."

     "Now?" he ejaculated. "I thought we were leaving for Roman Rock!"

     "Last night I had dreams that told me his spirit journey must begin as
soon as possible."

     "But we have to be going soon," objected Zeke, still surprised. "You
called for a tribal gathering. The others will be waiting... "

     "We must do this first, Nizano," Falling Star said in a grim voice as he
studied the face of the man who followed Mel. "Believe me when I say the life
of one of our brothers depends upon it."

* * *

     Silas was putting the finishing touches on a letter he was writing. He
tried to cover everything that had happened to him over the last three days.
He did not go into detail about Job, but did write: "...that's boy's a real
handful, and in more ways than one!"

     He was leaving the note for Will, in case his partner returned while he
and Job were at the cave of mysteries. Folding it carefully, he scrawled his
lover's name on the outside. Placing it in the center of the table, he stood
up, took a last look around, and left.

     Pulling the door firmly shut behind him, Silas came out of his cabin and
called for Job. But there was no answer. He looked around and muttered
impatiently.

     "I thought I told that young'un to get the horses ready! Where the heck
did Job get to? I swear... "

     The prospector glanced towards the pond, and saw. For a sickening
split-second of deja vu, he recognized part of the vision of his future Asa
Sykes had revealed to him the previous September. For Silas, time suddenly
fell apart, shattered like a pane of glass. It became a thing he experienced
in disjointed images and thoughts, separated by infinitesimal pieces of ebon
nothingness:

     There, among the rocks...

     ' ...what... '

     White bandages contrasted against a black-haired head...

     ' ...who's... '

     Livid j-shaped scar marring the left cheek...

     ' ...Mueller!... '

     The black bore of a rifle...

     ' ...gun!... '

     Pointed right at Silas...

     ' ...the bushwhackin' bastard's got the drop on me!... '

     Desperate twist to get away...

     CRACK!

     Agony tearing across his left side...

     ' ...I'm hit... run, Job... '

     Fingers gripping the wound, slippery with sudden crimson wetness...

     ' ...can't die... can't leave Will... '

     The ground slamming suddenly into his face...

     ' ...Will... my trapper man...'

     Taste of dust...

     ' ...I love you... so damn much... '

     Intense pain rising to drown everything else out...

     ' ...Will... I don't wanna leave you... '

     Blackness closing over Silas...

     ' ...not yet... please... '

     Then nothing at all...

* * *

     Despite the warnings Mel had received from the spirit realm, he had not
expected to find Falling Star anxiously awaiting Lou, ready to begin his
initiation into the Elxa tribe. As the shaman and his apprentice took Lou
away, Mel saw to their horses, unsaddling them and setting them loose to
graze. Then he retired to the stone and timber guest cabin nearby to wait.

     Conducted through darkened, rocky passageways, Lou soon found himself
sitting before a small fire deep in the bowels of the earth, within a chamber
whose walls were covered with an amazing variety of colored drawings. As Lou
studied those strange glyphs, it seemed to him as if the illumination provided
by the flames was somehow confined and compressed, as if the light were being
resisted by the spelaean blackness natural to the cave. Falling Star was
seated opposite Lou. The heron shaman's assistant, who had been introduced to
Lou as Nizano, sat nearby, listening along with Lou to the shaman's softly
spoken words.

     They were all naked and the cool air of the cave stirred the hairs on
Lou's body, almost, but not quite raising gooseflesh. He tried his best to
concentrate on what Falling Star was saying, but Lou found Nizano's good looks
were a considerable distraction to him. Nevertheless, the shaman's last words
overcame Lou's aroused libido and focused the man on what lay ahead of him.

     "More will happen here than just your induction into the Elxa, Lou."
Falling Star informed him. "You may find the experience unsettling, but I
believe one of our brothers' lives depends on this ritual, and what you do in
it."

     With those ominous words, the medicine man stood up and moved away,
vanishing into one of the numerous side tunnels that opened onto the painted
chamber. Nizano handed the somewhat stunned man a pipe, telling Lou as he did
so to smoke all of its contents. The pipe did not contain tobacco. Lou found
the unknown herb quite odd-tasting - sharp, heavy and sweet, producing a thick
yellowish smoke as it burned - but he finished it as he had been asked to.
Nizano took the pipe and retreated somewhere out of Lou's line of sight, as
Falling Star had done.

     Lou wondered again what was going to happen. He tried not to worry,
telling himself he was safe there, among friends, but he had to will his body
to relax just the same. After a few minutes, a drum began to sound softly, a
monotonous beat from somewhere behind Lou, reverberating in the cool recesses
of the cave. Then a chant started up as Falling Star began to sing to the
spirits that protected the heron men. Lou could not understand the words
spoken in what he assumed was the Elxa's dialect, but they seemed to mesh in a
dulcet manner with the drumbeat.

     Lou's eyes returned to the scores of esoteric symbols daubed on the walls
of the chamber. The dim firelight that flickered over the images made their
alien forms and unknown meanings even more mysterious. Lou gazed at them, not
knowing quite what to expect.

     Slowly, gradually, Lou felt his attention being strangely drawn to an
oddly shaped crack in the rock wall. He scrutinized it, curiously, wondering
why he did so. Then, without any warning, the fissure opened in a completely
illogical manner, gaping wide. At the same time, Lou found himself falling,
falling into that huge, yawning crevice, falling headlong into fantastic,
extradimensional abysses of cold fire and tangible color.

     After a nightmare of vertigo, Lou felt solid ground of a queer sort under
his bare feet again. It felt quite distastefully cold and gritty to him and
Lou shivered as he stood up. The man looked around himself in utter shock and
mounting confusion. The painted chamber he had been sitting in barely a moment
before was gone and he found himself stranded in the midst of an entirely
different world.

     A wilderness of bizarre rock formations now lay spread out around him.
The strangely shaped masses of stone stretched away to the horizon in all
directions. Everything looked barren and sterile, a wasteland of naked rock,
shaped by forces unnameable and archaic. The air was dusty and hot, holding a
foul, unsavory scent that sickened Lou.

     Lou looked up. The sour light that lit the lifeless, unclean landscape
around him emanated from a myriad of wicked, irritating stars, illogically
black. The flickering ebon points formed hateful, repulsive constellations
that writhed garishly across the dome of an impossibly lighted and colored
sky.

     The overall effect produced by the horridly astriferous sky was that of a
perpetual, menacing twilight. The dark, noisome stars gave off a harsh,
eldritch radiation. It fell on the barren realm like a toxic rain, inimical to
normal life. Lou's skin crawled as the non-light prickled it in a nearly
indescribable, quasi-greasy way.

     By the poisonous illumination of those evilly winking points of
anti-light, Lou saw his new surroundings were absolutely desolate, a dead and
alien world. And apparently uninhabited. Nothing could possibly live in such
an unforgiving and degraded place, or so it seemed to Lou. Then he heard the
noises.

     Low theroid sounds, indicative of a pack of animals, came unnervingly to
Lou's ears. The noises, indistinct gruntings and snortings, unseen feet
padding along, sharp claws scraping in an irritating manner on barren stone,
all conspired to disturb the vilely tainted atmosphere. Lou backed into a
hollow at the base of a nearby rock.

     His refuge stood like the cracked and eroded pillar of a ruined pagan
temple, pointing its broken tip upward toward the unforgiving sky. Lou froze,
hoping the creatures, whatever they were, would not sense him and pass by.
Somehow he knew that they were dangerous hunters of men, and not just of any
men, but men whose natures were like his own.

     Lou could hear the hidden skulkers snuffing up the corrupt air and held
his breath in suspense, concentrating on staying still. But he started
uncontrollably when a sudden yelp of alarm sounded. One of the stealthy beasts
had just caught the scent of prey on the dull, foetid breeze, and Lou knew the
scent was his own.

     In the distance, Lou could see the prowling creatures moving towards him.
They looked somewhat like dogs, but their forelimbs were longer than their
hind legs, and their bodies were covered with coarse, spotted, orange-brown
fur. An odd memory flashed in Lou's mind, of an illustration he had once seen
in an old schoolbook. He recognized the beasts, even though his rational mind
rejected the identification at once.

     'Hyenas?! In Oregon?' he marvelled.

     By now the pack had spotted him and the beasts silently slipped in among
the rocks on all sides around Lou, cutting off any possibility of escape. As
the leader of the pack sidled closer to Lou, the man cried out in alarm.

     "Falling Star! Help me! Help me, please!!"

     Lou's voice echoed forlornly and in vain among the bizarrely shaped
rocks. No answer came to him. No answer he wanted to hear, that is.

     "That meddling do-gooder can't help you now! You're trespassin' in our
world, heron man, and we kill any of you we can catch!"

     When the leader of the pack turned to face Lou, the man saw with a thrill
of unbearable horror that the hyena had an obscene parody of a human face, and
not just any face. It was his old partner's face, 'Pete' Peterson's face. The
abomination's animal tongue hung pendulously down from slack human lips and
dribbled glistening saliva disgustingly. Sharp, nonhuman, yellow teeth flashed
confidently in their power to maim and kill.

     "No... " Lou half-moaned, fighting to keep his terror from overwhelming
him completely.

     "You walked out on me, Lou," the daemonic thing began, croaking forth its
words in a monstrously vile and irritating approximation of human speech. "I'm
gonna make you pay for that, pay slowly and painfully... "

     Lou tried to repeat 'no' again, but he was too frightened to speak. The
hideous beast shuffled closer, licking its lips in anticipation of toying with
its prey and making it suffer before the thing killed it. Then it paused, as
if suddenly uncertain, snuffing up the air in Lou's direction.

     "Wait a minute! You're not a heron man!" the eldritch creature announced
at last. Its red-orange animal eyes glowed daemonically as they stared into
Lou's own, like a cobra trying to mesmerize a helpless bird.

     "You're wrong! I am!" Lou burst out, almost hysterical. "I am a heron
man! Falling Star said... "

     "He doesn't know you like I do. Do you think he'd want to have you in his
tribe if he knew about what you did to that banker in Sacramento three years
ago?"

     "No! Robbin' him was your idea. I never thought he'd catch us at it and
you'd go and kill him!"

     "Men are hanged every day for bein' an accessory to murder," the
man-faced abomination smoothly reminded Lou.

     "I didn't do it! I'm not guilty! I... Aaaaargh!"

     Lou shrieked when he realized what was happening. His left arm began to
twist and shrink, his hand shriveling into a hairy paw. Lou screamed again in
mind numbing terror of the animal foreleg that suddenly hung from his
shoulder, jerking spasmodically.

     "And what about that guy Ross you robbed in Port Bolon, hmmm?"

     "You made me do that! You said... aaaaah!"

     "You're just the same as me, Lou, the same as all of us here," the gross
Peterson-hyena said, grinning evilly as it watched Lou's other arm morph,
transforming into another hyena limb. "You belong right here with us, huntin'
and killin' the weak of our kind, the foolish men who think their 'special
natures' can really mean anything or change any part of the cold, cruel, harsh
world we live in, a world where only the strong and ruthless survive and
flourish!"

     "You can't do this!" Lou cried desperately. "You're not real! This is all
a trick of some sort!"

     "Let me tell you what's real. Remember Mel? Remember that night in the
grove when you made love to him? Remember how you didn't feel the wave of
heron love magic when Mel did? All the heron men felt the Heart Call, except
for you, which proves you ain't a heron man!"

     "No... aaaaargh!"

     To Lou's unrelenting horror, his back bent unnaturally. His legs shrank
and he was forced to fall on all fours. A sandy-brown coat of coarse hair
covered his body and in a few moments he stood face to face with the grinning
Peterson-thing, transformed into a nearly identical creature. Lou moaned in
the grip of despair.

     "Now you're one of us, Lou. But cheer up, it's not so bad, we have our
fun too," the fiendish thing murmured softly, turning to present it's hairy
rump to Lou. "C'mon and fuck me. I know what you like. And afterwards I'll do
the same to you, and we'll be even again. And then you can come back home to
me in Douglas City. We'll go out together to find us some more cute lads to
add to our boy-brothel, like we used to. You know you'd like that, sweet
talkin' them boys into bed and trainin' them to be good whores for us. You
always did enjoy your work... "

     Lou licked his lips in uncertainty. Was the Peterson-beast right? Had
Falling Star known all about Lou's previous life of larceny and made the
decision to abandon him in that awful world, to be with his own evil kind,
forever?

     Then, as he felt his tongue sliding over sharp, strong teeth, Lou
remembered what Falling Star had said, that another heron man's life was
riding on what he did. He could not give in now, be the cause of more chaos
and death. Lou knew what he had to do.

     Without warning, Lou lunged at the right hind leg of his beastly tempter.
He bit with all his might, feeling bone crunch sickeningly between his jaws.
The shocking taste of hot, unnatural blood spurted and flowed sickeningly
across his tongue.

     The Peterson-creature threw its head up and howled hideously, a keening
cry of pain, rage and shock. The other hyenas that had continued to skulk just
beyond Lou's range of vision answered that call of distress and came running,
quickly surrounding Lou. He released the animal that had failed to tempt him
and it bounded away on three legs, swearing.

     "I'm not like you anymore, Pete, not now, not ever again!" Lou screamed
after him, flecks of blood flying from his mouth with the force of his outcry.

     "Kill him!" the crippled leader spat back to the pack. "He's no good to
us anymore!"

     Lou immediately hunkered down, his rear against the oddly shaped rock.
The noisome pack lay in a rough semicircle before him. He could see that there
was no escape.

     At last, one of the ghastly hyenas moved. It leapt from its place, an
enraged blur of fur, claws and fangs, seeking Lou's throat. Lou tensed,
waiting for its body to slam into his, for his last, hopeless fight to begin,
but the invidious creature never reached him.

     From somewhere behind and to the right of Lou, an arrow flew to intercept
the loathsome beast. The impact stopped the thing in mid-leap and it dropped
heavily, instantly dead. Lou could see the steel point of the arrow that had
transfixed the thing's rib cage, how it had passed through the heart and
protruded bloodily from the other side.

     'Blue featherin's!' Lou thought, looking at the arrow's still-quivering
end. "It can't be... "

     The noisome pack erupted in pandemonium as it caught sight of the archer
who had appeared as if by magic to menace the vile beasts. Lou looked too and
saw an Indian standing nearby. He wore an Elxa glyphstone and sported a
magnificent pair of spirit wings that coruscated an eldritch aura of pale,
golden light, protecting him from the corrosive, unnatural environment, as
well as the evil emanations from the black stars above. Lou remembered what
Mel had told him about the spirit wings, but he was more surprised by his
unexpected recognition of the native archer.

     The foul hyenas surged en masse towards the enemy intruder in a mindless
killing frenzy. But like some ancient pagan god of hunting, the native fired
arrow after arrow, effortlessly, accurately, and with preternatural speed.
Before the noxious pack finally broke and fled, more than half of them lay
dead, their hearts pierced by the bowman's blue feathered shafts.

     As what was left of the pack disappeared into the vile and hateful stone
wilderness, the archer came closer. Lou cowered before him, still in a
disgusting animal shape. He was afraid the man would kill him and a little
part of him admitted it would be no more than what he deserved for the crimes
he had committed in the past.

     Lou shut his eyes, waiting for the end. A hand came and touched his face,
gently. Lou dared to look up, into Tasokah's clear black eyes. Lou remembered
what he had been told, that the spirit helpers of the Elxa sometimes appeared
in the borrowed likenesses of others, and realized it could not be Tasokah.

     "Stand up," the spirit ordered in a voice that sounded ominous, like the
muttering of distant summer thunder.

     "I can't, I'm an animal," Lou answered miserably.

     "You are a man, my brother," the image of Tasokah said firmly. "Stand up
and be a man."

     Lou tried. To his surprise, his body uncurled from a squatting position
easily. As he rose, Lou felt a curious sensation, as if something had slipped
off from him and fallen behind him. He looked and saw an empty hyena skin
lying on the rocky ground.

     He looked at his hands, his human hands, in unutterable happiness. Lou
had his own body again. He reached out and touched the shoulders of the man
standing in front of him.

     "Thank you... " he choked, tears of joy and relief running down his
cheeks. "You've saved me... "

     "No, you saved yourself by choosing to do the right thing."

     As the spirit responded, he kissed Lou. Though Lou knew it was not
Tasokah, the man embraced Tasokah's image and returned the kiss with all the
love and gratitude he had in him. Then he felt an odd sensation creeping up
and down his spine and pulled back to look at his companion.

     "Do not be afraid, my brother," the spirit who looked like Tasokah
crooned, as his gorgeous spirit wings curled to touch and stroke Lou's back.
"This is my gift to you... "

     Lou felt as much as saw his spirit wings sprout, a lacy, fragile looking
network of translucent filaments. They shimmered with subtle, kaleidoscopic
colors as he waved them, convincing himself that they were actual parts of him
before turning his attention back to his savior. Lou was sure by then that he
knew why the spirit had taken Tasokah's form.

     "Tell Tasokah," he whispered, "that I love him. I understand it now, how
right it feels to be with him, like when we first met, but better, because now
I know what he does, about the Way of the Heron... tell him I promise I'll
always be good to him, always."

     The spirit looked at Lou with a touch of sadness in his eyes before
pulling away from him gently. The archer turned to kneel before one of the
hyena corpses. Lou was confused by the spirit's reaction and glanced at the
human face of the beast as the image of Tasokah took something from it and
placed the object in Lou's hand.

     "Give this token to Mel. It will sadden him much. You must stay with him,
Lou, love him, comfort him in his grief. And remember the face of this one,
too."

     As the spirit said that, he indicated another hyena corpse. Lou studied
its human face and as he noted the hook-shaped scar that marred its left
cheek, he saw a small yellow bird escape from under the dead thing's paws. It
fluttered up to perch on the archer's shoulder and regarded Lou with large,
curious eyes, blue and quite unbirdlike.

     "But... " Lou began, "I thought Tasokah and I... "

     "Perhaps it shall be as you wish, if those of our tribe who still live in
the flesh have the courage and the insight to use the power brought to them by
the man from beyond the western sea. Tell Falling Star that if he allows the
wise one's magic to merge with the song all heron men carry in their
man-loving male hearts, many things will become possible that were not
possible before. But in any case, for the time being, take care of Mel."

     "I will," Lou said, in a pained voice. "But can Tasokah and I ever be
together... as lovers... ?"

     "You are as one reborn, my brother," the spirit said, without
acknowledging Lou's anguished question. "Go, live and walk in the Way of the
Heron like a man."

     At that moment the image of Tasokah vanished like morning fog stricken by
strong sunlight. A wave of exhaustion suddenly crashed over Lou and his legs
gave way. Black oblivion swallowed the man as his dreaming body slumped slowly
over onto its side, to rest on the floor of the cave of mysteries.

* * *

     The unrelenting blackness that shrouded the man - for eternity, or so he
had expected - slowly began to dissolve and fall away. From out of the
surrounding darkness, indistinct light appeared. Little by little, it grew and
brightened.

     There were faint noises as well. Like the ones he had heard the time he
stood on an Oregon beach and listened for the sound of the sea in a shell cast
up on the shore. Tiny indistinct sounds. But these swelled until they became
words, pounding urgently in his ears, until they could not be ignored any
longer.

     "Silas! Fire Wolf! Can you hear me?"

     He opened his eyes and saw a stranger. No, not a stranger. Silas forced
himself to focus on the anxious face and remembered. It was the man from the
vision he had been sent, three days earlier.

     "Il-Xochitl... " he breathed.

     "Yes, alias Bill Axford," he exclaimed in relief. "You're gonna be okay,
Silas. The bullet just grazed your side. We came as soon as we heard the
shot."

     Already the memory seemed sort of funny to Bill, the frenzy that he and
Katchikoa had experienced when the sound of the gunshot came to them in their
nearby camp. Scrambling to don their clothing and find their weapons all at
once. Leaping on their horses and spurring off, hell for leather through the
forest, tree branches tearing at them like demonic hands as they rode off,
towards Silas' cabin.

     But what they found there was not funny at all. Silas lay stretched out
on the ground next to the door of his cabin, left for dead by an unknown
assailant. While Bill tended to him, Katchikoa circled the area and found a
fresh trail.

     The heron man took off immediately into the woods, after telling Bill to
stay with Silas. The look of anger on the native's normally impassive face
told Bill that Katchikoa would not need any help to deal with whoever had
attacked Silas. Bill almost felt sorry for the bastard, imagining what was in
store for him.

     "What... ohhh... "

     Silas moved and regretted it at once. Pain danced wickedly in his left
side as he looked around. He was in his cabin, on the bed, bloodstained
bandages wound tightly around his chest.

     "I had to use some of your whiskey to sterilize the wound," Bill smiled
apologetically, bringing a nearly full bottle to Silas' lips, "but I saved the
rest for you. For medicinal purposes of course."

     Silas drank gratefully. One gulp, two... Then he remembered.

     "It was Mueller who shot me!" he choked and coughed.

     "Mueller?!" ejaculated Bill.

     "Yeah, and we gotta find Job... "

     "Job's here!?"

     "Yes, and Mueller's probably got him!"

     "That damn polecat!" Bill spat. Now he did feel sorry for Mueller,
because if Katchikoa did not get him, Bill swore he would, and he had no
intention of being gentle with him. "Katchikoa's trackin' Mueller down now,"
he informed Silas.

     "No... Mueller'll kill him... "

     "He'll have to see Katchikoa first, which ain't likely," Bill said,
coaxing Silas to take another drink. "First off, Mueller doesn't know
Katchikoa's after him, and when it comes to bein' stealthy, that fella musta
wrote the book about it!"

* * *

     Job moaned through gagged lips as he came to. He was looking up, at the
leafy branches of trees, swaying above him in the wind. Then he saw something
move, out of the corner of his eye.

     "Hello, Job. Welcome back to the land of the livin'. Or in your case, the
dyin'."

     'That voice!'

     Job's body jerked and bobbed, but did not move. Tight, rawhide cords cut
painfully into his wrists and ankles, holding him spread-eagled and at an
angle, his legs higher than the rest of him. There was a rope around his neck
as well, cutting into his throat below his jaw, holding his head in place. Job
continued to struggle anyway and Mueller laughed at his futile attempts to
free himself. All the while, he fingered a peculiar knife, a type usually
employed to skin animals.

     "I got a lot to repay you for, Job. By now half the state knows about my
god-damned dildo! I'll have to leave, go back east, if I'm ever to have any
peace now. But first, you're gonna feel more pain than you ever thought was
possible."

     The man touched Job. It felt like a venomous snake had sidled up against
him. Job's struggles became frenzied.

     "Let's see, where shall we begin?" he asked, speculating as he ran a hand
slowly across the desperately twisting torso. "I could peel your nipples off
with a flick of my wrist. Or maybe I should start with your face. I could make
sure whoever finds your body would never be able to identify you, let alone
think you was ever handsome."

     The sadist ran the flat of the blade across Job's belly.

     "I could cut you open and pull your innards out, but that wouldn't be the
end. Feel that rope around your neck? When I'm done carvin' you up, you'll
still be alive enough to hang. I can hardly wait to see you up there, chokin'
to death, your skin and innards hangin' off of you in strips, and I'll leave
you there to rot, let the maggots and the crows have what's left."

     Job felt cold metal against his balls.

     "One slash of my knife and you'd be a steer. Or maybe I'll cut this
horsecock of yours open, see what's inside. Oh, by the way, we're all alone
out here now, so don't expect anyone to come and rescue you. I watched that
hot sex show you put on this morning with that red-headed peckerwood you was
shacked up with, though his kitchen window. I gunned him down when he came
outside to look for you."

     Job tried to cry out his friend's name through his gag. Hot tears of
grief for Silas started from his eyes as he was cut by the evil pimp's words
more keenly than any blade could have. Mueller chuckled pitilessly at Job's
distress.

     "You liked him, eh? Well, he's dead now, just like your cousin, so save
your tears. You're gonna need them for yourself soon enough. But I'll start
easy on you."

     Mueller stripped off his clothes. He manoeuvred between the suspended vee
of Job's twitching legs, grinning at his evil handiwork as he stroked himself
to full erection. The boy's ass was hanging at just the right height for the
sadist to violate and defile.

     The lad clenched for all he was worth, but could not stop his captor from
forcing his way in. The rapist went in dry, hoping to hurt his victim more.
But Job's insides were still slick with a mix of the Elxa's wondrous salve and
Silas' spunk leftover from earlier that morning. It saved him from injury, for
the moment.

     "Oh, yeah... " Mueller shuddered, sinking in past the spasming, juicy
sphincter.

     He began to pound himself wildly into the struggling lad. Against his
will, Job felt his own cock responding, lengthening. Mueller laughed when he
noticed what was happening. He grabbed the big cock and began jacking Job off.

     "I still turn you on, eh?" he hissed. "Okay then, this'll be the last
time you ever shoot off, so enjoy it."

     Job tried to hold back, concentrating on the ugliest things he could
think of, but it was no use. His hormone-charged adolescent body, with the
almost priapismic sex drive typical of his age group, betrayed him. Jets of
semen were soon arcing over his taut, straining chest and splattering hotly
against his face. He tasted his own seed ruefully.

     Mueller laughed again and dropped Job's cock. The outsized member lay
heavily on the lad's abdomen, drooling a puddle of sticky whiteness that
filled his belly button to overflowing, the excess slowly running off to drip
from his side. From that point on, the pimp addressed himself to his own
pleasure. The minutes passed agonizingly, but at last the captive felt a hot,
liquid warmth blooming abruptly inside him.

     "Don't worry, I ain't gonna slice up that sweet ass of yours," the rapist
panted while continuing to grind his still-stiff cock in the lad's rear. "I've
got a feelin' I'll want to fuck it some more, before I finish carvin' up the
rest of you."

     At last, Mueller pulled out. He skinned the slimy scum off his dick and
slapped it into the boy's asscrack, to keep it slick and ready for future
assaults. Then the bastard wiped his hands clean on Job's balls before he
retrieved his knife and moved to kneel by the lad's side.

     "I've decided to start with your face."

     As he hissed the words, his blade came down, flashing. Then it stopped,
inches above a cheek. A hand was suddenly gripping Mueller's wrist, holding
him back.

     Job stared in overwhelming shock at the owner of that hand, as did
Mueller. Leroy Byrd pulled the knife-wielding hand away. At the same time he
reached out with his other hand and touched the vile sadist's chest lightly,
just over his heart.

     "Right there." He whispered determinedly, his familiar voice loud amid
the stunned silence of the moment.

     "No... it's not possible... you... you're dead... "

     That was all Mueller could manage before an arrow flew into the clearing.
It buzzed by so close to Job's face that the lad could feel the rush of air
against his cheeks as it passed. It struck Mueller in exactly the same place
Leroy had pointed to.

     The arrow slammed through his body, its point exploding bloodily from his
back. Mueller stared stupidly at the vibrating, blue-feathered shaft that had
transfixed his heart, then at Leroy, and then at nothing as his eyes rolled up
into their sockets. He fell heavily, blood foaming from his mouth in a ghastly
manner as his last breath escaped.

     "Our friend Bill is nearby, Job. It was his love that gave me the power
to save you," Leroy whispered to his cousin, his form fading slowly away, like
a mist exposed to sunlight. "Let Bill love you and take care of you from now
on... "

     Leroy Byrd vanished. A few seconds later Job heard someone crashing
through the undergrowth, hurrying towards him. An Indian Job did not know
burst into the clearing, his knife in his hand, ready to fight. An Elxa
glyphstone bobbed from a loop of rawhide around his neck, telling Job he was a
friend.

     A glance sufficed to tell Katchikoa that Mueller was dead, so he turned
to cut Job's bonds. Soon he was holding the shaken, naked youth. Comforting
him with gentle words and strong, bronzed hands and arms.

     "Hoo, now, young one, do not be afraid, you are safe... "

     "But Silas... "  Job choked.

     "Silas is safe also. The evil one only wounded him slightly. He will
recover."

     "He's alive... ?"

     "Yes, young one. But tell me, I thought I saw another white man here. But
he seemed to vanish before my eyes like a spirit... "

     "That was my dead cousin, Leroy... "

     That was all Job could say before he broke down. He gripped the Indian's
body and sobbed against Katchikoa's dark, hard chest, feeling his rescuer's
hands stroking his back rhythmically in sympathy. It was partly relief,
knowing Silas and he were safe, that wracked his body, as well as another,
sadder feeling, like he had lost Leroy for a second time.

* * *

     When Lou woke up, the fire was almost out. The dim, ruddy glow of the
dying embers barely cut through the spelaean darkness around him. He turned
his head and saw a spot of bright, clear blue sky gleaming wholesomely through
the jagged mouth of the cave of mysteries, far, far away.

     The sight of the friendly, natural sky relieved and revived him. Lou
attempted to rise, struggled to reassert control over his benumbed body. At
once a pair of hands shot out of the blackness and gripped him firmly,
steadying him.

     "Careful," Nizano's voice warned, keeping Lou from rolling into the
smouldering firepit.

     "Have you been here... the whole time?"

     "I was waiting for you to wake up."

     "How long...?"

     "Half an hour, perhaps."

     "Half a...? But it felt so much longer than that!"  Lou paused and lifted
a hand to his forehead. "I feel weak."

     "It will pass. You just need rest, that's all. Come."

     Nizano picked the man up bodily and carried him a few steps to a pile of
buffalo robes and blankets. He put Lou between them and followed, sliding up
next to the exhausted man. Lou tried to return the hug, but was still too
feeble to move much.

     "Damn, Nizano!" Lou whispered regretfully. "Here you are with me, both of
us nekkid, and I'm all done in!"

     "Rest now, my brother. Your strength will return."

     Reassured, Lou relaxed into Nizano's arms and was at the point of
dropping off to sleep again when he felt something in his clenched hand. He
fingered it, realizing it was a ring, the object the spirit who had taken
Tasokah's form had given him in his medicine vision. Too tired to think more
about it, Lou somehow summoned the strength to place it beneath the closest
corner of the blanket before the blackness claimed him once more.

* * *

     In the area around Roman Rock, the uneven landscape provided many
secluded spots, as if it had been especially created for the amorous
rendezvous of the heron men. One such special place was a sunwashed meadow
that gently sloped to the southwest. In its midst, a scarlet blanket had been
spread out.

     Around its brilliant edge nodded contrasting sprays of delicate blue. The
spring blossoms of lupine and larkspur, swaying in the breeze. Contented
beyond words, Mayati lay with his head in Hun Tzu's lap. The men's clothing
lay abandoned in an untidy pile nearby and a few passing clouds tempered the
sun's warmth on their skins.

     The first butterflies of the season were out. Some had wings of a dull
yellow hue, as if they had been cut from ancient satin. Others were smaller
and faster, colored a radiant, iridescent blue.

     They flitted about the men lazily as Hun Tzu whispered softly, reciting
the love poems he had learned from the Chinese classics. Gazing at the
native's face, Hun Tzu felt as if he truly understood the emotions that had
inspired the poets' words for the first time. Mayati listened, breathing in
the sweet perfume of the new blossoms carried on the wind, as well as the
musky scent of his companion, and sighed deeply with pleasure as Hun Tzu
whispered a new poem, inspired by the love they had shared the previous night.

I love the moon
That lights our bed
And transmutes your love
Into liquid pearls,
Falling,
Like drops of honey,
Falling,
From a broken comb,
Falling,
Your sweetness,
Yours!
Flowing into me...

My heart is ravished!
My mind perplexed to no end!
To know you one night,
Is to know you a myriad of nights,
No one night the same,
As any of the others...

     Mayati turned his face into the warm, softly furred belly and inhaled,
getting a stronger whiff of the subtly arousing musk of his companion. He
allowed his mind to drift back in time, to remember his first meeting with Hun
Tzu. He found it hard to believe it had only been three days before.

     He recalled the rabbits first, turning over a low campfire, exhaling
delicious aromas. He watched the meat cooking, listened to the juices popping
and sizzling as ruddy drops oozed from the carcasses and fell onto the glowing
embers below, the only sounds to be heard. Mayati had been alone in his camp
not far from the banks of the lower reaches of Heron Creek.

     The last light of day was just then departing, leaving vast, gorgeous
patterns of pinks and oranges and purples across the western edge of the sky.
The Indian glanced upward, admiring nature's art. On an impulse, Mayati picked
up his flute and played a short tune to the sky, as lively as the fancifully
colored clouds.

     He smiled as he set the flute aside and gave the spit another turn. The
air was still, heavy, as if in anticipation, and Mayati breathed in deeply,
content in the midst of such solitude. And yet not content, thinking of his
friends, of his brother heron men.

     Unconsciously, Mayati reached down and scratched at the sand with a
finger. He thought wordlessly, a medley of images running through his mind, of
those who had loved him, their faces, their bodies, their passions... The
sound of a twig snapping startled the native and he looked up, into the almond
shaped blue eyes of a beautiful stranger.

     A glance towards the creek showed Mayati another canoe, drawn up on the
sand while he was so lost in thought. The man knelt, his hand stretching out,
pausing tentatively over the symbol Mayati had so absently drawn. A curling
glyph that looked like a stylized bird.

     The same sign decorated the sides of the newcomer's canoe. The stranger
looked up from the glyph and at Mayati. He spoke.

     "Is this the sign of those whom I seek?"

     Mayati looked into the man's strange blue eyes again, probing with his
shining black orbs. He felt the newcomer's inner nature, his heart, calling
tenderly to his own, spirit reaching out subtly to spirit in hope. He
responded, softly.

     "It is... my brother. Sit with me and share my meal."

     Mayati thought again of that wonderful evening, how the men had talked,
sharing in Hun Tzu's joy at reaching the homeland destined for him, predicted
long ago by his geomantic art. Learning from each other, from whispered words,
and from gentle caresses... He returned to the present, reaching up to stroke
Hun Tzu's lightly bearded cheek as he ended his poem. Mayati answered in a
loving murmur.

Your glance,
expands my heart...

Your voice,
exalts my spirit...

Your touch,
quickens my soul...

Knowing you,
Knowing your love,
Has taught me
what it means to live...

     Their lips touched, and no more words were needed.

* * *

     Sometime later that day, Lou awoke alone. He soon noticed Falling Star
and Nizano sitting together by the fire, talking quietly in the Elxa language.
The heron elder was smoking his long, ornate pipe, and gestured with it to Lou
when he saw the white man had awoken, beckoning to him. Lou rose from the
blankets, pleased to feel the heavy, unnatural fatigue that had cumbered his
body earlier was gone, leaving him refreshed and alert. As he sat, the shaman
asked what he had seen in his vision.

     Lou related his experiences to Falling Star and his apprentice, leaving
no detail out. Lou was a little surprised at the clarity with which he
remembered his medicine dream. Everything he had seen and heard and felt
seemed to stand out in stark relief in his mind.

     Eventually, Lou got to the part where the spirit who looked like Tasokah
had given him the ring and spoke of the potential power a newcomer had brought
to the Elxa tribe. The shaman's eyes widened in surprise at that, as well as
in some other emotion Lou was not sure he understood. As Lou finished, the
medicine man extended his hand.

     "Give me the ring, Lou," Falling Star requested. "And be sure to say
nothing about what you saw in your vision quest to anyone, especially Mel."

     "Why? Do you know what it means?" Lou asked as he turned away to retrieve
the gold circle from beneath the blanket and hand it over.

     "Yes," the heron chief replied. "And because it concerns you, I will tell
you, but you and Nizano both must not repeat it to anyone else, for the time
being."

     "I promise," they agreed together.

     Falling Star nodded and took a pull on his pipe before beginning.

     "Lou, the spirits that guide our tribe have apparently decided that you
and Mel should be lovers. But Mel already has a partner whom I know he loves
deeply, Larry, who lives in Port Bolon. Larry has not heeded our calls to him,
to visit us and learn our ways. I fear the spirits have rejected him and have
dissolved the bond between him and Mel by killing him."

     "But, surely," Lou objected uncertainly, "what I saw in my medicine dream
couldn't possibly have had an effect on anyone other than me... could it?"

     Falling Star glanced at his apprentice. Nizano appeared attentive and
expectant. The Elxa shaman smiled indulgently at the white man as he turned
back to him and replied.

     "Then how to you explain the presence of this ring, Larry's ring, bought
for him by Mel? I recognize it, because it was I who suggested the design when
Mel asked my opinion. He wanted something unique to give his partner."

     "But why would the spirits do that to Mel? I know he'll be crushed when
he finds out about his pardner. He loves him something fierce!"

     "He will not find out," the shaman said calmly, after taking another
inhalation of fragrant smoke. Nizano looked curiously at his mentor as the
bluish fumes from his pipe made hazy arabesques in the still air. Lou was
somewhat more demonstrative.

     "What do you mean?" Lou exclaimed. "Sooner or later he has to... "

     "Ordinarily," Falling Star interrupted, raising his hand, "there is no
appeal from a verdict of the spirits like this one. All I could do is comfort
Mel's grief and bless your union with him. But now it may well be that we have
the ability to change the spirits' decision."

     "You mean... with the power summoned by the Heart Call? But if Larry's
really dead, then how... "

     "Believe me, Lou, when I tell you that the power of love can do
anything."

     Falling Star paused after saying that. His face betrayed a sudden
wonderment, as if a new thought had occurred to him. An idea that suggested
new dimensions to the subject they were discussing.

     "Yes," the heron shaman went on a bit distractedly, almost to himself.
"Anything." After another moment or two, his eyes flickered back to encompass
Nizano as well as Lou. "Do not hold preconceived notions or doubts or
expectations about this, my brothers. Just let love be, and miracles can
happen."

     "I... I'll try." Lou replied, as Nizano nodded slowly.

     As Lou spoke, he tried to comprehend the many and manifold possibilities
that the Elxa elder was implying. But his unavoidable skepticism audibly
tainted the words he uttered. Falling Star chose to ignore them and turned to
pick something up.

     "This is for you."

     Lou took the object Falling Star offered him. He saw it was an Elxa
glyphstone strung on a loop of rawhide, and smiled. Lou slipped it around his
neck and felt the weight of it resting against his chest, making him feel
proud and good.

     "What about the yellow bird I saw?" he asked, remembering it suddenly.
"What does that mean?"

     "As I said earlier, I believed one of our brothers' lives hung on the
outcome of your spirit quest. I believe now that his life has been spared, the
one who was represented by the yellow bird. You will understand it soon, once
you have met and spoken with your heron brothers at Roman Rock. Do not worry,
I believe it is a very good sign."

     "There's one thing else. When I saw Tasokah's image, does it mean... that
we'll be together as lovers?"

     "As you know, what you saw was a spirit, one of the mighty ones who
protect our tribe. He took the form of Tasokah, in order to speak to you more
easily. But the fact he appeared as Tasokah tells me of the bond that has
developed between you and he. Seek out Tasokah and speak to him of your
vision, my brother. If he holds love in his heart for you, he will certainly
reveal it to you."

     "Very well," Lou nodded. "I will."

     "Your spirit quest has cleansed you of your past and you are as one
newborn. Your name among the Elxa shall be Om-yomac, which means 'defier of
demons'."

     "Om-yomac," Lou repeated, liking the sound of his new name.

     "Gather your belongings, my brother," Falling Star told him, rising from
where he sat, "for we must leave for Roman Rock as soon as possible."

     Leaving Lou to dress, the shaman tapped the spent bowl of his pipe into
the firepit, slipped it into a pack of supplies he had ready to go and picked
it up. Nizano followed as Falling Star climbed the slightly sloping passage up
and out of the cave of mysteries. Nizano went to the guest cabin that stood
nearby to get Mel and ready the horses to ride. While he was alone, Falling
Star turned to look upwards, at the rock ledge high above the cave entrance
that held the native gravesite of his late friend, the Elxa elder Xaculi.

     "The power of love can do anything," he mused, repeating the words of the
spirit who had appeared to Lou in the form of Tasokah as he gazed at the
spindly-looking sky-cradle, deep in thought. "Well, my old friend, we shall
see. We shall most certainly see... "

* * *

     "Silas!"

     Job cried out for his friend as soon as he burst into the cabin,
Katchikoa trailing right behind him. Silas lifted his right arm from the bed
in a wobbly welcome to the naked lad. Then Job's heart leapt as he spotted the
man who was sitting nearby.

     "Bill!"

     They hugged and kissed. Then Job sat down on the bed next to Silas and
fussed over his blood-stained bandages. Silas reached out unsteadily to tousle
the lad's pale hair.

     "I'm okay, young rabbit," he grinned foolishly, dropping his hand into
Job's lap and grasping the youth's impressive cock. "Again?"

     "What the... " began Job, catching the scent of liquor.

     "It's for the pain," grinned Bill, who had obviously had a few himself.

     "I don't believe it!" Job said incredulously, staring at the nearly empty
whiskey bottle Bill flourished. "Mueller was fixin' to carve me up like a
Christmas goose and you two just sat here gettin' drunk!"

     "Just for medis... medisceenal purpos... for the pain," Silas managed.

     "Is Mueller dead?" asked Bill.

     "Yes," Katchikoa answered.

     "That calls for 'nother drink!" cried Silas happily, as he grabbed the
whiskey bottle away from Bill and toasted the group. "Here's to ol'
what's-his-name! May the dry-gluchin' bastard roast in hell forever and a
day!"

     He tipped the bottle back and swallowed. Job glared disapprovingly at
Bill, who gave a shrug and belched. Katchikoa took the opportunity to slip
quietly out of the cabin.

     "White men... " he sighed, shaking his head sadly as he went to see to
the horses.

* * *

     Eric woke up from an afternoon nap in the bunkhouse at Roman Rock, all
tangled up in a mesh of limbs. He managed to extract himself from Zeb and
Trev's clutches, and left them groaning and turning to one another for warmth.
Eric cast a wry grin at the indolent pair, pulled on his clothes and exited
the cabin.

     He strode to the nearest tree and pissed, sighing as the pressure on his
bladder was relieved. The sounds of many voices mingling into a low hum
reached Eric's ears. Though he could not see it for the trees, Eric knew that
not far away from where the bunkhouse stood, Heron Creek widened into an ample
pond. It was a popular place for the many men who had recently arrived to wash
and meet. Then Eric inhaled a stray wiff of fragrant smoke. It set his stomach
to growling at once, calling rudely for food. He turned and went to see what
was cooking.

     He already knew that in the midst of Roman Rock there was an ample iron
cooking pot set upon a carefully constructed base of unmortared stones. The
horseshoe shaped stonework supported the great cauldron securely and allowed
easy access to the firepit below it. Every day, a self-appointed cook added
whatever ingredients were available to the simmering kettle, creating a sort
of perpetual pot luck meal.

     On this particular afternoon, Eric saw Hun Tzu presiding over the
steaming cauldron, stirring in more items and frequently tasting the results.
He was also talking with another heron man, a particularly handsome one Eric
was sure he had not seen before. As Eric approached the pair, Hun Tzu pointed
and Eric caught the last of their words.

     "I last saw Tlaccotan over there, Eben."

     "Thank you, Hun Tzu," the other man replied as he turned to go the way
Hun Tzu had indicated.

     Eric had seen Hun Tzu before, the evening his group had reached Roman
Rock. Hun Tzu and his three companions had arrived at the Elxa settlement
earlier, and an ad hoc council was soon formed to listen to the geomancer's
explanation of the nature of the power that had touched so many and how it had
been summoned. The sheriff of False Pass, Robert Vaughn, who had been one of
Eric's traveling companions, was also an elder of the Elxa tribe. His arrival
had been welcomed by everyone at Roman Rock, not only to help Tlaccotan
provide leadership, but also to join the council that was listening to Hun
Tzu.

     Eric was not sure he had understood all of the concepts that Hun Tzu
tried to explain at that meeting, but he was sure he was not the only one.
Though sheriff Vaughn realized the geomancer's news was important, he and
Tlaccotan decided not to let Hun Tzu conduct another ritual for the time
being, despite its obviously beneficent impact on the Elxa tribe. None of the
heron men doubted that what Hun Tzu had done was good. The Elxa were already
using the name Mayati had bestowed on the phenomenon: the Heart Call.

     Cautiously, Robert, Tlaccotan and most of the others thought it best to
wait until Falling Star's opinion of the matter could be obtained before
attempting the Heart Call again. A rider was appointed to journey with the
group's tidings to the cave of mysteries. But before he could leave Roman
Rock, talking sticks were discovered in Heron Creek, announcing the coming of
Falling Star and the calling together of the tribe for a general meeting. This
piece of news calmed the gathering considerably.

     Knowing that the Elxa's great shaman would soon be among them personally
was a great relief for the group. Which was good, for the number of heron men
in the camp continued to grow. More and more were coming, seeking the meaning
of the blissful power they had felt two nights before.

     Hun Tzu noticed Eric's approach. He lifted a hand in greeting and smiled.
Eric returned the gesture.

     "Good afternoon."

     "Good afternoon to you," Eric returned. "What's cooking?"

     "I do not think this hodgepodge has a name, in Indian or English or
Chinese," he admitted with a smile.

     "I was just wondering, were you born in this country, or are you from
China?"

     "China. From the city of Foochow."

     "I hope you don't mind my curiosity. Having lived by whole life in New
Hampshire, I haven't met many Chinese."

     "No, I do not mind. Besides, growing up in Foochow, I did not meet many
redheaded white men either, so that should make us even." Hun Tzu and Eric
smiled at each other.

     "You speak English well."

     "I was educated well. As you may have guessed, my father and, as I've
been told, my mother's father were both sailors from America. I never knew
them, or my mother, she died when I was born."

     "I'm sorry... "

     "Well, as things turned out, fate was quite kind to me. As the half-breed
son of a common whore, well... my life in China could have been so much
worse... " Hun Tzu sighed, turning back to his task.

     "What happened?"

     Hun Tzu threw another handful of chopped wild garlic into the cook pot
and stirred it before answering.

     "I was adopted by a sein-sheng, a master of various subtle arts, such as
geomancy, astrology, and others. Wei Fei was also a master of the lo-pan, a
sort of instrument that can detect and measure many things the eye of man does
not see. He told me the story many times of how the lo-pan informed him of my
birth and how he found me with its aid.

     "He said I was destined to be the son he had never had. Wei Fei taught me
all he knew, and made sure I could speak, read and write English as well. For
the lo-pan told him, as it did me once I understood how to use it, that my
destiny was to come here, to this beautiful country, to dwell with these
gentle men who conjure with the love of their bodies, living as their natures
bid them, a nature I share.

     "When Wei Fei saw his death approaching, he put me on a boat bound for
America. You might think it was premature of him, but believe me when I tell
you that all the prejudices I have encountered in your country because of my
race amount to little besides the fierce hatred of the native Chinese for
half-breeds like myself. Even if I had wanted to stay and try to pass as a
native, my blue eyes would have always betrayed my 'barbarian blood' to anyone
I met. I and others like me are living symbols of the despised round-eyes'
incursions into China, literal reminders of the Europeans' rape of our ancient
civilization.

     "Although I had been adopted by Wei Fei, any respect I had was only out
of deference to him. We both knew that I would have never been allowed to
inherit his property. In fact, a lynching was more likely to be my fate than
anything else after his death. So it was for the best that I got out while I
could."

     "And, once you came to America, you found the heron men with this
lo-pan?"

     "Yes. Here, stir this, please."

     As Hun Tzu said that he handed the long ladle to Eric, and then turned to
pull something out of his backpack. Eric lifted the dipper to his lips and
sipped the hot, pungent liquid. A melange of flavors smote his tongue
pleasantly.

     "Good?" Hun Tzu asked hopefully.

     "Yes, very," said Eric as he picked up a bowl and filled it from the pot.
"Is that ivory?"

     "Yes. This is the lo-pan I spoke of."

     "But it's so yellow... "

     "This instrument is very old," Hun Tzu said as he ran his fingers over
the disk's delicately engraved surface reverently. "It is said that an emperor
of long ago ordered it to be made from the tusk of a monstrous, demon elephant
that he had hunted and killed."

     "It had to be huge, to grow a tusk big enough to make that from!" Eric
agreed. "Is that a compass set in the center?"

     "Yes. Depending on how it is manipulated, one can read signs in the
heavens and follow the invisible pathways of telluric energies that flow below
our feet. There are unseen forces all around us, that influence us. The wise
man knows them, acts with them, and lets them carry him towards success in all
he does."

     "Did that make the... the Heart Call, as the heron men are calling it?
What I felt... it seemed like some sort of magic... "

     "Magic," Hun Tzu repeated slowly. "Yes, I suppose it might appear like
that, but I am merely using my understanding to tap into the hidden energies
of this land. The more knowledge a man has, the more magical appear his
accomplishments.

     "But to answer your question directly, no," Hun Tzu said, moving to put
the tablet away before filling a bowl for himself and sitting next to Eric.
"The lo-pan merely showed me the right time and place to make the love-music
with Mayati, but even I was surprised by how successful we were, though I
should not have been. Confucius once said:

When two people are as one
in their innermost hearts,
They shatter even the strength
of iron or bronze.

When two people understand each other
in their innermost hearts,
Their words are sweet and strong,
like the fragrance of orchids.

     "If two in love can be so powerful, we can expect much, much more from
the entire Elxa tribe, a tribe of many men, sharing one nature, one heart. Add
to this the telluric forces that pulse so strongly beneath the valley of the
heron and even I have trouble imagining the limits of what we might
accomplish, if we work together."

     "It's hard to describe, the way I felt the night you summoned that force.
I've never experienced anything like that before. I hope we'll be able to try
the Heart Call again, soon."

     "I will have to talk with Falling Star when he arrives. Then I will take
another reading to learn when the next favorable time will be for the entire
Elxa tribe to make the Heart Call together. I too hope it will be soon."

* * *

     Following Hun Tzu's directions, Eben found Tlaccotan and relayed a
message he had for the heron chief. Robert Vaughn, the sheriff of False Pass
was with him as well. A Chinese youth who was with Robert tugged at his sleeve
as Eben and the heron chief spoke.

     "Can Alex and I go swimming?"

     "Sure. You remember where Chris and I camped, right?"

     "Yeah," answered Alex, turning to go. "C'mon, Lo!"

     The teenagers crossed Heron Creek, looking for the big hot spring they
had been told about. It flowed into a pondlike widening of the main stream,
keeping it warm year around. That body of water was crowded with heron men,
washing, swimming and generally having fun. But Alex and Lo wanted to soak and
relax awhile in hot water.

     They found the spring, but also found it was occupied. Six boys, all
younger than Lo or Alex were playing there. Three of them were white and
looked like brothers, all black haired and blue eyed. The other three were
natives, lean and tawny-skinned. All were playing with each other's stiff
dicks.

     "Oh!" one of the boys said when he spotted Lo and Alex, doffing their
clothes.

     "Can we play too?" Lo asked, slipping into the water.

     "Sure," the oldest of the white boys said. "I'm Jed Cooke. Those are my
brothers, Jael and Joel."

     "I am Three Elk," one of the native boys introduced himself. "Those are
my friends, Running Water and Walks Softly. They do not understand English as
well as I."

     "I'm Alex and that's my pard, Lo," the black youth grinned, showing off
his impressive hardon to the group before he got in the water. They were
fascinated by the size of Alex's endowment no less than by his skin color. "We
don't need to talk to have fun!"

     "No... " Three Elk murmured, coming over to touch and stroke Alex's hard
penis in an almost reverent manner. "Your rod is the color of white man's
candy!"

     "You mean chocolate?" grinned Lo as Jael and Running Water began touching
the Chinese youth. None of them had ever seen a naked man of Lo's race before,
either. "Well, I think Alex tastes sweet!"

     "It's a beau, ain't it?" Alex encouraged Three Elk. Jed came over to join
him in his exploration of the black teenager's body. "And it ain't even full
grown yet! You oughta see my big brother's pecker! He told me all the men in
our family were hung like bulls!"

     "It's real nice," muttered Jed, just before he knelt in the water,
slipped the loose foreskin back and sucked the dusky rose colored head of
Alex's cock into his mouth.

     "Damn... " Alex hissed, as he felt Three Elk move behind him and slip his
spit-slickened erection into the black youth's ass.

     With two sets of hands and mouths to each teenager, Lo and Alex's first
eruptions came quickly. The two youngest boys, Joel and Walks Softly,
continued playing with each other as they watched their comrades coax the
newcomers into shooting their sperm. While the older boys recovered, they all
traded stories of how they had gotten to Roman Rock. Three Elk explained that
he and his friends were members of the Wasnai, a tribe whose lands lay to the
north, in the upper Willamette valley. They had come with his brother, Thunder
Cloud.

     "I'll have to thank Thunder Cloud for lettin' you come, otherwise we
wouldn't have met!" smiled Alex as Three Elk and Jed continued to stroke his
body.

     "What's that?" Lo asked, pointing. The others looked and saw a ropelike
garland of colorful flowers stretched between two trees not far away.

     "Oh," giggled Joel, "that's a shanshasha."

     "A what?"

     "It is a sacred place where the heron men go to make love." Three Elk
explained. "Thunder Cloud told me that the love they make there raises energy
that the Elxa medicine men use to make good magic."

     "What're we all sittin' here for then?" asked Alex. "Let's go in there
and find us some full grown peckers to play with!"

     "Thunder Cloud said we were too young to go into the shanshasha." Three
Elk frowned.

     "Yeah," pouted Jael in shared disappointment.

     "Oh?" Alex looked at Lo. "You wanna go with me, pard? Mebbe we're old
enough!"

     "Sure!" Lo agreed as he glanced at the shanshasha again. "Look!"

     The boys all turned their heads. A naked native man had just appeared at
the entrance of the sacred grove, along with a big, beefy, blonde white man.
They kissed gently and parted. The white man went back into the shanshasha.

     The native turned towards the hot spring. He was broadly muscular and his
plump, soft cock swung in an eye-catching way as he walked. His bright black
eyes took in the bevy of boys as he neared them.

     "Ah!" he smiled. "May I join you young rabbits?"

     "Sure!" Alex grinned back. He introduced himself and his friends as the
man slipped into the water, sighing as he relaxed in the liquid warmth.

     "I am called Ho'va," he smiled, not objecting as the boys surrounded him.

     "Why are we too young to go into the shanshasha?" demanded Jael.

     "Don't be rude, Jael," Jed scolded. "It ain't Ho'va's fault if you're
only eleven!"

     "But I know what they do in there! I could do it, too!"

     "Ah, little one," Ho'va smiled, reaching out to caress Jael's side. The
boys saw it and took it as permission to touch Ho'va in return. As the small
hands explored the fully grown body, Ho'va went on. "I am sure you know what
sex is, but do you know what love is? The deep, good feeling of belonging to
another, of wanting only to please him, and of expecting nothing in return?
That is what you must make in the shanshasha, Jael, not just gruntings and
moanings and shooting your spunk!"

     The other boys laughed at Ho'va's words as Jael responded.

     "I love my brothers, and my paw and his pardners, my pop and dad... "

     "I do not doubt it. But did you know that if you went into the
shanshasha, you could not refuse if a big man like my friend Sun Bear wanted
to fuck you?"

     "That huge blonde guy we saw you kiss?" Jael squeaked. Ho'va nodded and
Three Elk chuckled.

     "One so big would leave your behind stretched open, so that when you bent
over, others could see all the way up into your stomach and know what you had
for supper!"

     "Content yourself with your young friends' cocks for now," Ho'va urged,
once the others' laughter had faded. "Well," he reconsidered, provoking a new
round of giggles as he noted Alex's stiff pole, "maybe not his... "

     "Could I go in the shanshasha?" Alex asked as Ho'va reached out to caress
the hard, dark flesh. The teenager moved closer to make it easier for the man.

     "You are as big as some men I have seen there... "

     Ho'va leaned over and took Alex's cock in his mouth. As he pleasured the
youth, he felt hands stoke his nipples, his balls, his own swiftly hardening
manhood. The boys indulged their curiosity, finding out what a man's body felt
like, what pleased it...

* * *

     Job stayed with Silas while Bill and Katchikoa went to bury Mueller. The
native heron man paused to pull his gory arrow from the corpse before kicking
it into the hole the men had dug. Seeing the questioning look in Bill's eyes,
he explained.

     "I must give this arrow to Falling Star. A weapon that has slain a demon
is very strong medicine."

     Bill nodded and the pair turned back to finishing their somber task.
Afterwards, as they led the dead man's horse to the cabin, the heron men
discussed what to do next. Though Silas' wound seemed not to be too serious,
Katchikoa suggested they err on the side of caution and journey to Roman Rock.
The healers there would see to it that Silas was tended to properly.

     "I agree with you," grinned Bill, "especially seein' as we'll soon run
out of pain killer!"

     "Firewater is not good medicine!" the native smiled wryly back. "Fire
Wolf's head may hurt more than his side when its effects finally wear off, I
fear!"

     With his injuries well bound up, Silas was able to ride. Once his friends
got him in the saddle, he made a gay companion on the first leg of their
journey to Roman Rock. That is, as long as the liquor's effects lasted.

     There were many jokes and telling comments made about the state Silas was
in as the heron men traveled. Silas responded to the slights by loudly
objecting and insisting that none of his faculties were impaired. But his
slurred protestations only served to confirm his companions' suspicions.

* * *

     Hun Tzu got many complements that day for his culinary skills. But the
main topic of conversation around the campfires continued to be the mystery
energy the geomancer had raised with the Heart Call, which had catalyzed the
heron men's lovemaking. Eric listened to these discussions during that day,
finding out how common the feeling had been. Unconsciously, he reached to hold
Zeb's hand as they sat side by side.

     "Hmm," Zeb murmured, looking beyond the circle of Elxa with whom they
sat. "More newcomers."

     Eric looked to see two men, an Indian and a white man, leading their
horses and loaded pack mules into camp, headed for the stable. Eric studied
the man who brought up the rear, the one with long, dark brown hair and bushy
beard, feeling oddly uncertain why he did so. Trev, who sat on his other side,
noticed Eric's intent stare and leaned over to him.

     "That's your uncle, Will Dern."

     Eric got up at once and headed towards the stable. He waited outside
while the two men saw to their horses and mules, studying them, trying to
remember. It seemed like a long time had passed since his beloved uncle had
left New Hampshire to go west, right after the war ended. Eric was pleased to
see Will was healthy and still as handsome as he remembered.

     "Greetings, young one," the first one out of the stable said to Eric. "I
am Red Hand."

     "I'm Eric Vaal."

     "I have heard of you," the native said, looking the young man up and down
in open admiration.

     "Eric!?" Will yelled, coming forth and grabbing the young man, crushing
him in a bear hug.

     "Uncle Will!" Eric gasped, squeezing back as hard as he could.

     "Let me look at you. Damn! All grown up now!"

     "And good-lookin' to boot," a red-headed heron man added unexpectedly. He
was standing further back in the gloom of the stable, grinning as he looked
on.

     "Of course he a looker, Greg! We're related!" laughed Will. "And who's
this?"

     Eric looked to see Zeb, whom he had not noticed following along, standing
quietly nearby.

     "This is my partner, Zeb Alden."

     "I'm glad to meet you," Will said, embracing the blond man warmly. "How
was your trip?"

     "Better than we could've imagined. Especially a couple of nights ago,"
Zeb answered.

     "Do you know anything about what happened to us?" asked Eric.

     "Not much, but I'll tell you what I know."

* * *

     Falling Star reined in his horse when he saw the deserted camp that stood
roughly midway between the cave of mysteries and Roman Rock, beside Heron
Creek. He gazed off to the northwestward, across the open grasslands that
stretched away in that direction for a few moments, thoughtfully. Then he
dismounted and led his scar-faced sorrel pony to drink. The three men who
followed him did the same.

     While Nizano and Lou set up the camp, Mel and Falling Star went hunting.
Before they returned, Nizano busied himself spearing a number of fish in the
pool that swirled above a waterfall. The smell of the cooking filets greeted
the returning hunters as they shared the burden of their success, a young
buck.

     It was a lot of food for four men. Lou wondered about it, but since no
one else seemed to notice he refrained from commenting on it as he helped
prepare their supper. A couple of hours later, Mel touched his shoulder and
pointed. In the afternoon light, Lou saw four riders approaching from the
northwest and a fifth horse trailing behind, carrying a saddle pack of
supplies.

* * *

     Will, Eric and Zeb decided to bivouac in a clearing away from the crowded
Indian campsite. In the evening, as they sat around a small fire, they talked,
getting to know one another. Will explained the plans he had made to the young
men.

     "The land hereabouts is literally up for grabs, under the homestead act,"
Will began. "And the white members of the Elxa tribe have been worried that
people might move into the area who don't think like us."

     "What about the Indian heron men?" Zeb asked.

     "It's very difficult for them to understand the white attitudes towards
land ownership. They can't imagine one man ownin' a piece of the Earth, which
nourishes all men. But given the way most whites carry on, ignorin' and/or
killin' the natives when they want land, well... like I said, Silas and I and
the others are worried."

     "Have you talked to Robert about this? He's an Elxa elder. Maybe he'd
know what to do."

     "Yes we have, Eric, and we've agreed on a plan."

     "What is it?"

     "We're goin' to get the members of the Elxa tribe to put in a series of
land claims that'll give us ownership of this whole valley, from Diamond Lake
and the upper Umpqua right up to the land around the cave of mysteries,
basically, the entire watershed of Heron Creek."

     Will gestured at the nearby stream. Eric and Zeb knew by then that it
flowed down from the Elxa's sacred mountain, Zoraxte, past the cave of
mysteries, through Roman Rock, and eventually fell as a waterfall before
meandering to where it joined the upper Umpqua River a few miles further on.
Eric remembered bathing at those falls that afternoon, his excitement at the
sight of his uncle's naked body and trying his best to hide the hardon it had
engendered. Again, his cock twitched in his jeans at the memory and he shifted
uncomfortably where he sat.

     "A day's ride east of here, following the trail to the cave of mysteries
that parallels Heron Creek, there's the loveliest piece of mountain meadowland
you ever saw," Will went on, "perfect for keepin' a small herd of cattle and
some horses. We'd hoped you two would help us give runnin' a ranch a try. We
don't expect to get rich at it, but Silas and I ain't gettin' any younger.
Sooner or later, we'll have to give up our wanderin' ways. But we'll still
have to eat, so we thought up this business."

     "Where would we live?" Zeb asked.

     "We'll pick out a site in the woods on the edge of that meadow I spoke of
and help build you two a cabin. Nice and big, so Silas and I can stay there
when we visit. And maybe a barn too. We got all summer. Shouldn't take all
season. And now I feel like pissin'."

     Will stood and Eric jumped up to join his uncle. The older man, for some
reason, chose to go a little further than he had to in search of a tree. Eric
was nervous as they pulled their cocks out and watered the roots of a big
hemlock.

     "Is there something on your mind, son?" Will asked softly.

     "Well... I... I'd like... I mean... "

     Will looked at his nephew with amusement in his eyes.

     "Does this have anything to do with that boner you had when we went
swimmin' earlier?"

     "You noticed?"

     "Something that big ain't exactly hard to miss," he snorted.

     "Uncle Will... I don't know how to say it... "

     "Try, son. You can tell me anything. I love you."

     Eric sighed, and spoke.

     "You don't know how much I wanted you to say that to me when I was a kid.
For those two years after you left, I'd beat off night and day thinking of you
touching me. I guess I was in love. And... I want to know if you feel like
what I was imagining all that time. But if you don't want to... "

     Will bent closer and brushed his lips across Eric's ear, turning slightly
to show his nephew his rising cock.

     "I'd like that. A lot," he breathed huskily. "But let's talk to your
partner first. If Zeb's agreeable, I'd be pleased to satisfy your curiosity.
All night long, if you want me to, son... "

     "Don't worry about me falling asleep too soon!" Eric chuckled. "Besides,
from the looks Zeb's been getting from the other heron men around here for
most of the day, I don't think he'd lack for company if he asked for it!"

     Buttoning their pants, they turned to go back. Will put an arm around
Eric and the young man relaxed into it, feeling a slow flame of anticipation
igniting within him, burning sweetly. The thing he had dreamed of for so long
would soon be a reality.

* * *

     It was late when Silas woke up. The nearly full moon bathed the camp with
a clear, silvery light. He could easily make out the other three bedrolls laid
out for some distance around the firepit.

     The effects of the whiskey had long since worn off and Silas' head no
longer throbbed. The pain in his side was back, but was more tolerable now
thanks to the starflowers Falling Star had given him, some put in his food and
others used to make a sort of poultice to lay over the wound. Katchikoa lay
beside Silas under the blankets, breathing regularly, a warm and comforting
presence.

     He heard a noise, a low moan that sounded familiar. Job was out there,
somewhere, getting reacquainted with his old friend and new protector, Bill
Axford. Silas closed his eyes and tried to relax back into sleep.

     'It's a good thing Bill took over for me... ' thought Silas wryly. 'I'm
not sure I could've kept up with that young'un for much longer... '

* * *

- Beltane Eve -

* * *

     As the first light of a new dawn broke over Roman Rock, it illuminated
the rough bark siding of a longhouse where so many recently arrived visitors
lay asleep. One stray beam found a crevice and slipped through, lancing down
through the darkness to fall upon Hun Tzu's face, awakening him. Knowing the
source of the warmth beside him, he turned his head slowly, wondering at the
tender feelings aroused in him when he saw the look of peaceful repose upon
Mayati's face.

     There was something else there as well, something delicate resting on the
strong, beautiful visage: a hint, a touch of vulnerability, that moved Hun Tzu
deeply. He thought of the man's wise touch, of his gentle passion, and sighed
inwardly. He began to move carefully, not wanting to disturb his partner's
rest.

     Silently, Hun Tzu retrieved the lo-pan and a native garment Mayati had
given him from his pack before he rose from the blankets he shared with the
heron man. The longhouse in which they slept was crowded and he had to step
carefully among the still, gently breathing bodies on his way out. The dim,
early light had not yet begun to drive away the fog that hung heavily over
Heron Creek, and drifted lazily in grayish wisps through Roman Rock, obscuring
the details of the native camp.

     Hun Tzu donned the breechclout before the longhouse, tying the cincture
loosely around his waist and threading the soft strip of deerskin between the
rawhide cord and his skin, adjusting his genitals in the soft pouch it formed.
He greatly enjoyed the novel form of clothing Mayati had introduced him to,
the sensations the scant garment engendered. His almost-entirely bared skin
tingled pleasantly in the coolness of the morning air, and Hun Tzu felt more
open to the invisible forces around him, the powers he honored who guided his
path.

     'This is just one more reason I have to be thankful to you for, my
friend,' he thought, an image of Mayati burning sweetly in his mind. 'Or, dare
I hope, more than that, more than just a friend? Are you the unique companion
I have waited for, longed for... ?'

     Hun Tzu let the unfinished thought drift away, along with a passing wisp
of fog, and buoyed by a growing hope for love he began to walk through the
morning mists, shivering slightly at the feel of the icy dew under his bare
feet. He moved away from the camp, into the woods along the banks of Heron
Creek and a little ways up the trail that led to the cave of mysteries. The
unseen sun barely illuminated the pale vapors as they twisted in a serpentine
manner around the tree trunks and climbed into the branches above, muting all
color.

     In that place, there was no sound other than the muted murmur of the
flowing waters of Heron Creek, no movement other than the slow, random
meanderings of the milky haze, swirling languidly around his body. It seemed
to Hun Tzu as if all animal life had fled from that place, leaving the man
alone in a ghostly garden, tended by indolent spectres. He lifted the lo-pan
above his head, murmuring an improvised prayer to the spirits who watched over
his new home.

Here stand I,
A supplicant from afar,
Bowing before
Your ancient powers:

The majesty
Of your snowclad mountains,
The power
Of your rushing waters,
The glory
Of your sky-touching trees...

Accept me into your circle
Of loyal retainers.
And make me worthy
To live in such a land as this,
Lush with every blessing
A man could imagine...

Help me to know
Your ways,
Your hidden powers...

And help me
To help
My newfound brothers.

     Hun Tzu lowered the ancient, yellowed disk, and began to conduct a
reading with it. The man turned the mystic instrument this way and that,
aligning the compass marks and noting the features of the land as they related
to the markings on the lo-pan. He scrutinized the inscribed characters that
spread out in concentric rings from its center, noting and weighing the
correlations and contradictions in his mind.

     He soon detected a strong personal energy emanating from somewhere ahead
of him, further up the trail. From what he had been told, he guessed its
source was the Elxa's tribal shaman, Falling Star, who was on his way to
preside over the recently called gathering of the heron clan. Casting further
about himself, Hun Tzu sensed another, greater power.

     He detected a movement of energy beneath the ground. And this invisible,
aethereal river was coursing beneath the very path he stood upon. It seemed to
be flowing from the direction of Zoraxte, the sacred mountain of the heron
men.

     In China, such phenomena were called 'dragon currents'. They were
analogous to the 'ley lines' of England. And then there were the 'fairy paths'
of Ireland. Legends were plentiful about the woe that betided any who were
foolish enough to disturb those paths or who blocked them by building a house
or a barn across one.

     Under the surface of the Earth, all over the world, the power of the
planet pulsed endlessly along unseen, subterranean arteries. Those who knew
how to locate and tap into the obscure, telluric flows could wield subtle
powers. They could find water, or minerals, or indeed, anything else hidden
within the Earth.

     Using the lo-pan then as a sort of dowsing rod, Hun Tzu followed the
energy stream's flow, and it led him back into Roman Rock. The geomancer was
pleased to find an upwelling, an 'artesian well' as it were, of invisible
earth energies. The 'hot spot' would serve the heron men well when they tried
to conjure the magic love music again.

     Hun Tzu was only a little surprised when he located the point at which
the tellural essence surged to the surface. The 'hot spot' was at the site of
the campfire where the communal meals were cooked. Since his arrival in Roman
Rock, Hun Tzu had spent a lot of his time around that area, an occurrence that
his master Wei Fei would have said was not a coincidence. He concluded his
instincts must have drawn him to that spot.

     The place where he had presided as cook the previous day was set between
the colorfully decorated council lodge and the ornate totem pole the heron men
had raised opposite their meeting house. Hun Tzu looked about himself and
wondered. No doubt the person who had originally established Roman Rock,
perhaps the mysterious Hunts-by-night himself of whom so many stories were
told, was sensitive to those subtle energies, for all its constructs were
centered around the power spot, which was itself centered in the Elxa's
ceremonial fane. In Hun Tzu's opinion, another non-coincidence.

     It would be a perfect place to try and make the Heart Call again. But
when, he wondered, would the time once more be favorable? Hun Tzu consulted
the ancient tablet and was pleased to discover that all the signs he read
pointed to that very evening as being the most propitious time for the
attempt, when the newly full moon stood at its zenith.

     As if to confirm his findings, an errant ray of sunlight burned through
the fog and fell on the ivory tablet. For a moment, Hun Tzu was startled by
how vividly the colored ideograms stood out against the aged, yellowed
material, as if the secrets they guarded burned within them. Then a gentle
touch on his shoulder brought the geomancer around.

     "Is all well with you, my brother?" asked Mayati, his black hair and
copper skin stark against the background of drifting white.

     "Ah, it is now," Hun Tzu answered, returning the caress and adding a
lingering kiss.

* * *

     "Uncle Will?"

     Will turned his head. He smiled at his nephew, reaching out at the same
time to caress a red-bearded cheek. He sighed, thinking of the love they had
made that morning.

     They both lay naked out on a sloping meadow, their skins still damp with
the sweat of their amorous exertions. Wildflowers nodded gently in the breeze
all around their outspread blankets. The morning sun had long since burnt
through the fog to shine warmly on their bare bodies.

     "Yes?"

     "Thank you," Eric breathed gratefully, "for last night, and today... "

     "I was my pleasure," began Will. "And anytime you want to sleep with me
again son, all you have to do is ask."

     Eric sat up and ran a hand slowly and lovingly across his uncle's chest
and belly. He thought again of the previous night, when he had felt that belly
fur crushed against his backside. When the long, slow strokes of Will's cock
moving sweetly deep in his vitals had made him come without touching himself,
a sensation he had never before experienced, not even with his lover Zeb.

     Eric's fingers teased and ruffled the thick brown fur as they moved ever
downward. Eventually they found their way to the base of Will's relaxed
manhood. Soon he felt the warm flesh respond and swell under his touch.

     There was no need for Eric to ask permission at that moment. Without a
word, the younger man allowed his head to fall to his uncle's crotch, seeking
the taste he remembered from the night before. Gently, he began a communion as
old as mankind itself.

     Perhaps it was the original act of holy worship. Eric and Will could have
been the spiritual heirs to some archaic priesthood, one that piously adored
the living avatar of creation that all men possessed, the erect phallus. In
primordial male sanctums, which the foot of woman had never defiled, they
would pay tender homage to the symbol they had chosen to represent the
principle of life, forever resurrecting itself when touched with love, the
archetype of eternal life...

     Like Eric, they would genuflect reverently before erect, living altars
and sing silent hymns of praise with their lips and tongue. Consuming rigid
flesh, drinking the living waters that surged from it, imbibing an immaculate
essence of life and power and maleness, and giving the same miraculous fluid
back to their fellow devotees, a sacred ritual of touch and sweat and
heartfelt gasps... The older man sighed heavily and relaxed, feeling
delicious, incredible warmth wrapping itself slickly and expertly around his
sex.

     Will felt his most sensitive flesh being drawn into a velvet universe of
liquid heat, into a magical space that attracted all sensation to itself,
becoming for a time the focus of all things. An ageless rite, a convocation of
gentle masculine spirits summoned and presided over by their loving desires.
Male power building up and exploding outward, in a timeless, eternal cycle of
gathering and release that would never end as long as there were men who loved
men. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, forever, for all time...

* * *

     Falling Star arrived at Roman Rock later that same day, along with the
combined party that followed him. After a raucous welcome, the heron shaman
immediately closeted himself with Hun Tzu and a few of the wisest of the Elxa
elders. While the council was being convened, Lou lost track of Mel in the
crush of the crowd. After a bit of fruitless searching, he decided to see to
his horse.

     The sudden influx of visitors had overwhelmed the corral the heron men
had built behind the council lodge, and Lou walked ol' Joe toward a group of
cabins screened from Roman Rock by the trees along Heron Creek. He had
glimpsed them earlier, the last time Lou had been in the native encampment,
and he knew there was a small barn somewhere near the structures. He hoped one
of the white Elxa whom he had been told lived there might have a place he
could hitch and feed his horse.

     The barn there was likewise full, but Lou did discover a odd sort of
stable, sheltered by an awning of skins stretched over a wicker frame and
attached to the side of one of the smaller cabins. There seemed to be no one
around, only a black horse nibbling at a pile of hay thrown down against the
side of the building. Lou hitched his stallion in the space beside the other
horse and stepped over to the nearby door.

     Even as he knocked on it, Lou was surprised by the unexpected, sharp
scent of alcohol that hung in the air. There was no answer, so the man touched
the latch and let himself in. The odor he had detected was much stronger
inside the small cabin.

     Lou saw a still hissing softly in one corner. It was set up on a base of
rough stones, mortared together with river mud. Two other walls of the same
type and size, forming something like half a cube, kept the low fire under the
still confined and insulated from the wooden walls of the cabin, which seemed
to be meant for the storage of various odds and ends.

     Lou could see a couple of bags of corn and other brewing supplies set
about. A row of tall, clear bottles were set against the far wall, most of
them filled with a pale brown liquid. Lou gave a low whistle.

     'Well I'll be! A distillery!' he thought. 'Roman Rock sure is full of
surprises!'

     Lou licked his lips and almost reached for one of the bottles. Then he
caught sight of a tin cup sitting on a windowsill and took it instead. The
dribbling end of the still's coil emptied into a large jug, but Lou
intercepted the flow and waited patiently, until he had a half cup full of
newborn moonshine.

     He lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. Lou gasped as the warm,
potent liquor burned its way down his gullet. But he had to admit to himself
that he had tasted worse as he finished the rest and replaced the cup.

     The opposite side of the versatile cabin did duty as a tack room. Lou
went out and unsaddled his stallion, bringing the horse's accoutrements back
inside. Besides his gear, it seemed to Lou that at least four other harnesses
lay or were hung along the wall.

     There was a large bin heaped full of hay set up opposite the door. Lou
helped himself to an ample armload of its contents before he left. Adding it
to the heap before the horses, he took a last look around and figured he would
check back later on ol' Joe.

     He walked away from the group of cabins slowly, following a faint path
that wound amid the trees. It led him down to Heron Creek. Lou rolled a
cigarette as he went and thought absently of taking a swim.

     When he reached the stream, lusty sounds of uproarious laughter and
tumultuous splashing came floating up to his ears and echoed in the shade of
the trees. It was coming from a pool Lou knew was downstream from where he
stood. He paused to light his cigarette and inhaled.

     He knew that, like every other place in and around Roman Rock at the
moment, the pool was crowded. Not feeling in the mood to socialize, Lou turned
upstream. He hoped he could find a quieter spot for a swim further on.

     As he walked, he thought again of his medicine vision. The things he had
seen, the explanation of them, given by Falling Star. About Mel, and about
Tasokah.

     In their hasty journey from the cave of mysteries to Roman Rock, Mel and
he had not had much time to talk. It was evident though that Mel was happy for
Lou. It showed in his smile, the way Lou caught the heron man looking at him
as they rode. Lou was thankful Mel had not asked about his experience, mindful
of his promise to Falling Star not to tell anyone about it.

     But even if Lou were allowed to tell Mel what he had seen, how could he
do it? He could not abide the thought of doing anything that would cause his
friend unhappiness. He hoped Falling Star knew what he was doing.

     And what if the Elxa shaman was wrong? Lou thought of his dream again, of
how the spirit he had met had told him to go to Mel, to love him, as had
Falling Star. Lou did love Mel, and knew he could and would be good to the man
if he had to, but the medicine dream had strengthened the bond he felt to
Tasokah and Lou now yearned for the native in a different way.

     He blew smoke and tried to imagine living with Tasokah, as if conjuring a
vision of the future from the insubstantial, curling fumes. He could see them
building a cabin, having a small garden, taking turns hunting, trapping during
the winters. Being alone together, touching, exploring their feelings for one
another, their depth, their connections...

     Then a new thought occurred to Lou, causing him to grin wryly to himself.
He tried to conceive of Mel living with them as well, in a sort of tripartite
bonding of all three men. He racked his mind, trying to remember if he had
ever heard of a polyamorous menage like that in the Elxa tribe before.

     Lou remembered something he had been told about three heron men who lived
on the northeasternmost edge of the Elxa's lands. A triad who ran a small farm
and shared the raising of three orphaned boys, who seemed to be future heron
men themselves, or so it was rumored. That three men could cooperate to make a
home together was encouraging to Lou. He considered that Mel and Tasokah and
himself could do that, as they had all shared similar experiences, had come to
the valley of the heron in search of themselves, and had found the tender
knowledge there that freed the men's spirits.

     They were compatible as heron men, and that went a long way. Why could
they not go the rest of the distance, and share a special, tripartite bond of
love? Lou began to realize how deep the Way of the Heron could be, holding
many possibilities, much unsuspected potential...

     Lou's reverie ended as he came to a sharp bend in the course of Heron
Creek. The water at that point was backed up behind a massive slab of mossy
granite jutting up from the ground, blocking the path of the stream. Seeing no
one else around, he stamped out his cigarette butt, removed his clothes and
waded into the small pool.

     Lou found the cool, refreshing water was much deeper in that place than
he had first judged. He ducked himself under and came up snorting and shaking
his head. Then he found a place where he could sit. A spot that allowed the
waters to lap at his chin.

     Sighing in relief, Lou leaned his head back against the great rock that
dammed the creek. Blank-minded, he observed his surroundings: more mossy rocks
that lined the waters' edge, the new aspen leaves fluttering above him in the
breeze, a lone orange dragonfly whirring by on translucent green wings. It was
a tranquil, calm world and Lou wondered idly if it could be any better than it
was now.

     Lou felt utterly at ease. Even when he spied small bubbles rising from
the stream, he did not wonder where they were coming from, or why they seemed
to draw closer to himself. Then he felt skin brushing against the insides of
his legs as a man surfaced before him, holding onto Lou's knees for support.

     "Tasokah... "

     The heron man answered Lou's unsurprised, breathy murmur with a full,
lingering kiss. It was one that let Lou know without words how happy Tasokah
was to see and touch him again. Under the surface, Tasokah's hand rose to
touch the glyphstone hanging about Lou's neck.

     Tasokah smiled beatifically. The gesture and the look in Tasokah's eyes
at that moment were as eloquent as the most gracefully spoken welcome to the
Elxa tribe that could have been. Lou took the supple bronze body in his arms
and gave in to the flood of desire that welled up inside him, bursting forth,
beyond his power or Tasokah's to deny...

     Eventually, Tasokah led Lou to his temporary home, a wickyup hidden from
the pool by a low ridge. Lou threw his clothing down next to the Indian's gear
and lay with Tasokah on a large blanket of rabbit pelts stitched together, a
voluptuous softness spread out before the wickyup's entrance. As their bodies
came together, Lou could not help but whisper, using the same words he had
spoken to the image of Tasokah in his medicine dream.

     "I will be good to you, my love, always... "

* * *

     "Southwind."

     Will opened his eyes when he heard the softly spoken word. Eric was
asleep next to him, a smile shadowed on his bearded face. Will looked and saw
Red Hand standing nearby.

     Raising a finger to his lips, Will got up. Silently they walked a few
paces away from the nest of blankets he and his nephew had shared. Then the
heron elder spoke.

     "I have come to tell you Fire Wolf is here."

     "Really? Where's he at?"

     "He is in the bunkhouse."

     "What's he doin' there? Why didn't he come lookin' for me?"

     "He could not, my brother, for weakness. Fire Wolf has been wounded."

     "What?! I've gotta see him... "

     "Wait. It is not a serious injury and he is being well taken care of.
Fire Wolf asked me to tell you what happened to him, because talking tires
him, and he knew you would want to know everything."

     "I do!"

     "Then let us sit, and I will tell you."

* * *

     Soon thereafter, as Will approached the bunkhouse, he wondered as he
heard uproarious laughter coming from within. The door was ajar and he paused
to peer inside curiously before he entered. He saw his lover, shirtless, with
bandages wound around his crimson-haired torso, lying on a bed. Tavani and
four other white men stood around him, all convulsed with laughter.

     Two of the latter were known to him. They were his Elxa brothers Sun Bear
and Laughing Wolf. Of the two he did not know, he was sure the older one was
the man he had seen at the cave of mysteries, when he had journeyed there last
September, whose Elxa name Nizano had told him: Il-Xochitl.

     "Here's another story," a blond youngster was beginning, who Will soon
learned was named Job Byrd. "One time there was a couple of friends who'd had
a few too many at the local tavern and were headin' home late at night. One of
the men was a big, strappin' fella, over six foot, while his buddy was
crippled in one leg and had to walk with a cane. And he was half-blind to
boot.

     "Well, on their way home they came to a bridge. The big guy felt the need
to piss, so he pulls out his cock and lets fly in the creek. His buddy, who
couldn't see too good durin' the day, let alone at night, sees the big man's
tool a-hangin' and a-shakin' over the railin' and gets all excited.

     "'Snake!!' he yells and brings his walkin' stick slap down on his
friend's pecker, as hard as he could."

     Job's listeners howled and grabbed their own cocks as if they had been
hit, in sympathy for the big man.

     "That's just what the big fella did. He gave a screech like a rabid
wildcat and started jumpin' around on that bridge like a flea on a hot
griddle, holdin' onto his talleywhacker with both hands.

     "The little fella realized what'd happened and figured he'd seen his last
hour. The big guy was strong enough to break him in two, and nobody'd deny he
had a good reason to do it after something like that, even if it had been an
honest mistake. But the big man was too drunk to realize his friend's error.

     "'Hit him again, Tim!' he roared. 'The bastard bit me!'

     "They say the big man never did find out the truth of the matter, but
word of it got out somehow. For months thereafter, whenever the local boys got
together and had a few drinks, somebody'd always end up shoutin': 'Snake!' And
someone else'd holler back: 'Hit him again! He bit me!' And they'd all laugh
like fools!"

     Despite the pain in his side, Silas laughed until tears came. When he had
recovered somewhat, he saw his lover standing in the doorway, laughing almost
as hard as he had been. Silas started to get up, but Will saw and came over to
him in a flash, falling into the bed and pressing his partner's head back into
the pillows with a strong, joyous kiss of reunion. Neither of them noticed the
others discreetly exiting the cabin, leaving the two alone together.

     Outside, the four men paused together. Zack grinned wryly to himself as
he watched his lover engage Job in some casual chitchat. Tolatil came up to
let Bill and Job know he had found a place for them to camp and they left to
go see the site.

     "I know what you're thinkin'."

     Eben looked at his lover. He had just waved farewell to Job and had a
questioning look on his face. Zack chuckled.

     "What?" demanded Eben.

     "I know you're attracted to blondes, my love," Zack murmured, leaning
over to kiss his man. "Job's a handsome one, and I won't mind if you want to
get to know him better... "

     Eben grinned sheepishly, but was saved from having to reply when both the
men saw Red Hand beckoning to them. He conducted them before Falling Star, who
had taken a break from the council discussing the recent fantastic events. He
had a special task for the extraordinarily gifted pair. The heron shaman
explained himself, astounding his listeners with what he believed the Heart
Call was capable of accomplishing.

     Soon thereafter, the lovers were following Heron Creek as they headed for
the cave of mysteries. The magic that could make them werebeasts also
empowered their human bodies. They would cover the intervening miles quickly
and without fatigue. Eben especially was eager to go, buoyed by hope and awed
by Falling Star's unbounded ambition. They both dared to think that soon they
would meet up with an old friend again.

* * *

     The Elxa elders talked among themselves in council for the better part of
that day before it was decided to try making the Heart Call again. Besides the
favorable reading Hun Tzu had received from the lo-pan, there was another bit
of information that made the coming night seem especially potent. Robert
Vaughn pulled an almanac out of his back pocket and showed the group that an
eclipse of the moon had been predicted for that very night, the last night of
April.

     "Beltane," murmured Nizano, recalling something he had read in one of the
old books kept at the cave of mysteries.

     "What did you say?" Red Hand asked.

     "It will be Beltane tomorrow. It was a sacred holiday to the old pagans
of Europe. The ancient folk celebrated the triumphant return of the sun and
the power and promise of summer it brought with it. The holiday begins at
midnight."

     "What effect might these happenings have on the ritual?" Mayati asked Hun
Tzu.

     "It sounds as if many different cycles are coinciding. The point of their
meeting tonight is an end and a beginning. Perhaps we stand on the brink of a
new chapter in the history of the heron men," offered the geomancer.

     "If we are successful, it will indeed be a new beginning for the Elxa
tribe," Falling Star stated. "The power Hun Tzu has shown us can do much more
than deepen us into the physical act of love, however pleasant and exciting
that is. We must learn to control and direct this power we wish to raise. Let
us prepare for the Heart Call."

* * *

     Later that evening, in a general announcement to the tribe, Falling Star
asked his fellow heron men to try to direct the energy of love that they would
raise to him and Red Hand as they made love, making their bodies the nexus of
the ritual, for there were tasks that the heron shaman had to accomplish. He
could not explain what his purpose was at the present time, but asked his
brothers to trust his judgement for the time being.

     The heron men's confidence in Falling Star was unquestioning and they all
agreed to his request without dissent. At Hun Tzu's suggestion, all those who
could play the flute or keep time on the drum were to sit near the upwelling
of earth energy he had found that morning, in the center of the Elxa's
ceremonial fane. The rest would sit around beyond the musicians with their
lovers or friends. All would go naked and be prepared to open up to the
possibilities of the Heart Call.

     As the evening deepened into night, the moon rose, full and bright. By
its light the heron men gathered around their ceremonial fane. Falling Star
and Red Hand spread a blanket out close to where the musicians sat, on the
southern side of the great circle, next to the tall and gayly decorated totem
pole.

     They, the agreed-upon focus of the rite, sat facing the low-burning
central fire and waited. The group quieted when Hun Tzu and Mayati signaled
their readiness to begin leading the musicians. Falling Star rose and spoke to
the hushed crowd in his own tongue and those who understood whispered a
translation to their fellows who did not:

Our spirits are rooted in the Earth
So deep, so deep...

Our limbs intertwined hold us
So close, so close...

Earth's energies rise up
Through us, through us...

For a time we shelter
Life itself, life itself...

Then, transmuted by our love,
This living energy reaches for
The stars, the stars...

     Once Falling Star had finished his short oration, the ritual began. The
shaman remained standing, pressing his back into the totem pole as Red Hand
knelt before his lover and took the long, dark cock lovingly into his mouth.
Mayati and Hun Tzu lifted their instruments and began to lead the other flute
players. The tune they had chosen was a familiar one to their brothers, the
song of the heron.

     Tasokah sat among the drummers. He softly beat out a rhythm in tandem
with a gentle chorus of gourd rattles that did not overpower the flutists.
Once again he felt the sweet aching in his soul beginning anew, as he had the
day he discovered Hun Tzu and Mayati playing their flutes together on Heron
Creek.

     As the music began to have its effect, the men in the outer circles
turned to their partners, their friends. Eric and Zeb kissed tentatively and,
like the others around them, they thought lovingly of Falling Star and Red
Hand as they touched, visualizing sending them the forces evoked by their
lovemaking. Those couples who better understood what they were being asked to
do imagined their spirit wings unfurling and meshing, forming bubbles of
subtle energies around their bodies, lenses to focus and transmit the power of
their love to Falling Star. The Elxa shaman began to feel the tender offerings
of the tribe reaching him, building up within him, expanding...

     Falling Star also began to be aware of the numinous energy that spewed up
out of the Earth, from the power spot under the communal firepit Hun Tzu had
detected earlier, at the very center of the Elxa's ceremonial fane. To the
heron shaman's mild surprise, he could feel the primal power flowing, erupting
upwards. Then, even more unexpected, was the sensation of the spot moving. It
gravitated slowly towards Falling Star and Red Hand, sliding mysteriously
beneath the Earth to where they made love, as if they were magnets, attractive
to the Earth force.

     Soon, the telluric essence centered itself beneath the totem pole Falling
Star leaned against as his lover continued to fellate him. The elemental power
shot up through Falling Star's feet, legs, belly. It enveloped Red Hand's
slowly bobbing head, rose through Falling Star's spine to burst from his
shoulders and the crown of his head. Those who were not too far into their own
lovemaking to see it gasped as the gorgeous spirit wings of Falling Star and
Red Hand became visible. Scintillating, lavender tinted, gossamer pinions,
curling in to touch and mesh and form a delicate looking cocoon of eldritch
purple light around the pair, lovely to behold, pregnant with the potent
possibilities of love.

     The coruscating energy continued to rise, coursing up the totem pole at
Falling Star's back, emerging subtly changed by its intersection with the
bubble of violet spirit-light burning around the shaman and Red Hand,
generated by their deep love for each other. A nexus that was further
nourished and strengthened by the energies raised by the lovemaking of the
other heron men around it, the power of their orgasms directed lovingly
towards Falling Star and Red Hand. Those pulses of orgiastic power came slowly
at first, then quickened as more and more couples passed their points of no
return.

     The energy moved upward in languid, sensuous waves. Planetary pulses of
subtle power that stirred the hairs on Falling Star's body as it rose through
the shining ovoid of violet spirit-light around the coupling lovers and
changed, taking on the same pale purple tint. The subtly altered earth
energies reached for the starry sky, once again building a numinous column of
gorgeous spirit light, higher and higher...

     All the love energy generated by the Elxa tribesmen was concentrated on
Falling Star and Red Hand. Their joined bodies, physical and subtle, became a
sort of lens, transforming the earth energy as it passed through them,
influencing the tellural force with the love they held for each other, and for
all their brother heron men as well. The shaman was not the only one who saw
the forces thus evoked take on a lavender cast as they enveloped and flowed up
through his body, climbing to tower protectively above him, full of unknown
potential...

     As the tellural essence continued to rise inexorably, using his body as a
conduit, Falling Star found the effect of its passage was almost unbearably
tender and sensual. He began to feel as if he were making love to the Earth
itself. The waves of orgasmic energy coming from his heron brothers spurred
his passion on, as did Red Hand's talented tongue. He felt the excitement
grow, a brittle sweetness building low in his loins, ready to burst like some
exotic, overripe fruit.

     The time had come to attempt his purpose. He visualized the places, the
persons, and the tasks to be accomplished, locking his will on that which had
to be done. Amplified by the power that coursed through him, he urged Red Hand
to release him and he took himself in hand, fisting himself over the edge.

     Falling Star came in great leaping spasms, some of them reaching the
firepit several feet away to splash and sizzle, awing those who were still
watching. His tremendous orgasm triggered the lavender energy, directing it
outward, towards the goals the shaman visualized. And the numinous power
obeyed.

     Falling Star found himself astounded by the speed of the amorous energy.
Or rather, its lack thereof. Time and space seemed to mean nothing to the
mysterious numinous power as it leapt to its purpose, accomplished it, and
returned, somehow assuring the heron shaman as it did so that all of his
desires had been completely fulfilled.

     At the same moment Falling Star had achieved orgasm, the expected eclipse
began, another coincidence that did not go unnoticed. The bright night slowly
darkened, until the moon was a deep ruddy hue, like the lees of old wine. Pale
violet energy built ever higher from the Earth, until it seemed to kiss the
dark violet disk of the moon.

     In a sense, the energy flow had itself reached climax. Sensing that it
had more to give, Falling Star seized the moment and imagined the health and
well-being of the entire Elxa tribe, as well as the fertility and protection
of the entire valley of the heron. His were not the only eyes that watched in
wonder as the pillar of lavender spirit-light changed, becoming an aethereal,
sparkling fountain.

     The subtle power mushroomed, spreading out at its apex, broke up and
began to fall back to Earth, like a beautiful rain of glittering purple-white
sparks. Tiny bits of joy floated and swirled on the night air like a swarm of
otherworldly fireflies as the moon brightened and regained its full splendor.
A gay blizzard of subtle snowflakes showered down on the land and the coupling
men around Falling Star, carrying a mystic balm that brought peace and healing
to their minds, bodies and spirits.

     Thanks to the power the tribe had raised, their shaman looked at Roman
Rock with new eyes. He saw many spirits of departed heron men exulting in the
numinous rain. Two of his predecessors, Ikukua, the medicine man of the Elxa
when the tribe had first been led to the valley of the heron, and Blue Badger,
who had believed in the existence of a love-energy like this, were dancing a
frenetic victory dance together.

     Leroy Byrd was there too, sitting near where Job and Bill were making
love, reaching out to caress his friends with luminous hands as they coupled.
They were unaware of his presence, but Falling Star saw him, and smiled. Then
the shaman knelt to kiss Red Hand, to lie with him on their blanket and return
the love his partner had so freely given.

     Soon, the music began to thin. The drummers, rattlers and flutists
faltered, laying aside their drums, gourds and pipes to embrace and make love
to their comrades. In their heady need, they reached for warmer, fleshier
instruments to play upon.

     Hun Tzu and Mayati sounded the last notes of the love music that had
guided the ritual before turning to each other in their own need. Falling Star
smiled serenely as Red Hand came hotly in his mouth, sending another burst of
erotic energy into the mystic maelstrom the heron men had conjured with the
love of their bodies. Afterwards, the heron elders cuddled and held each other
within the focal spot, feeling the little prickling wavelets of erotic energy
continuing to come to them from their brothers all around. The surrounding
heron men's orgasms touched their souls, playing them as if they were
aethereal instruments, evoking the song of the heron hauntingly in their
man-loving male hearts as the tribe's collective lovemaking lasted far into
the night.

* * *

- Beltane And Beyond -

* * *

     "Silas?"

     The gentle voice prodded Silas to awaken. He yawned, stretching and
scratching himself, feeling the tightness of the bandages wound around his
chest and the comfortable warmth of Will's body lying beside him. He turned
his head and looked into his partner's eyes. Silas could almost see the love
that animated them...

     "Red Hand said your bandages should be changed in the morning, my love,
and it's late already."

     Silas looked up and saw irregular spots of deep blue sky, shining
gloriously through the dark green mesh of intervening tree limbs and leaves.
He sat up when he saw the two men who shared their camp. Zeb was sitting by
the fire, reheating a leftover from the previous night's feast and Eric dozed
peacefully nearby. He was lying face down and exposing a beautiful ass to the
morning sunlight. All were naked, and Silas' heart skipped a beat as he ran
his eyes over Zeb's muscular, dark blond furred body. The previous night, he
had not had the chance to see it so clearly.

     "G'morning," he drawled, as affably as he could.

     Zeb grinned at him in reply and Silas' cock twitched. Will had already
begun unwinding the bandage when it occurred to Silas that something was
missing. With a shock he realized he was no longer feeling any pain in his
left side and told his partner about it.

     "Really?" Will asked skeptically, removing the last loop of fabric.
"How's that possible? Red Hand said... "

     Will fell silent, causing Zeb to look up. Silas saw their eyes widen in
surprise and looked at his side as well, where he had been grazed by the rifle
bullet. The wound was gone and Will ran his hand wonderingly over the spot
where it had been, feeling warm, unscarred skin and firm flesh underneath his
fingers.

     "How... " began Zeb, flabbergasted.

     "The ritual... " Will breathed. "The power that we felt, it musta healed
Silas' wounds... "

* * *

     Trev yawned and stretched. He turned to cuddle with the native who lay
next to him, an old friend who had shared love with Trev during the ritual of
the Heart Call and afterwards, sleep in their blankets as well. As Trev rubbed
himself against the broad, warm back, reliving the joy of the previous night,
his companion also stirred.

     After a few moments, Trev felt the man's body stiffen. With his back
still to his bedmate, Wiscoup'a's hands rose and stroked his face. He got up
and went to kneel beside the pond they had camped beside, a slight widening
of Heron Creek.

     Trev sat up, wondering. He looked and could see Tasokah's wickyup nearby.
He and his friend Lou were awake as well, but conversing softly. The white man
rose from his blankets and the cool morning air wrapped itself caressingly
around his naked body as he stepped over to his erstwhile bedmate and put his
hands on the man's shoulders, in gentle concern.

     "Wiscoup'a?" he murmured, "Are you alri... "

     Trev's voice died in his throat as he saw the reflection of his heron
brother's face in the water. Wiscoup'a's whole, unscarred face, as handsome as
he had ever been, before Blood Wind's vile magic had disfigured him. The
native reached out, almost touching the wavering mirror of water.

     "Trev," he breathed. "Am I dreaming?"

     Trev knelt and turned Wiscoup'a's face to his. He stroked the smooth,
unblemished flesh, looking into two bright, black eyes. He shook his head in
amazement.

     "No, not unless I'm dreamin' too... "

     Wiscoup'a's eyes fell and his breath caught. Before Trev could ask what
the matter was, Wiscoup'a reached out to cup and cradle Trev's genitals in his
hands. Trev looked down and watched in shock as the native's dark fingers
gently probed, stretched and tugged on his miraculously restored foreskin,
testing its reality.

     Lou took over then. He stroked himself, watching the long piece of skin
that he remembered having slide back and forth over his glans without
uncovering it. He experienced pleasurable sensations he had not felt since he
had been a teenager, before the orphanage managers had decided to circumcise
him and all the other boys under their care.

     His cock grew to its full hardness, but still the tip was sheathed in the
sensitive skin, clinging to the round knob as Trev fisted it. Wiscoup'a eased
Trev onto his back and sucked on Trev's balls as the white heron man's passion
grew. When Wiscoup'a saw that his friend was close, he shifted his head to
hover over the tip of the man's penis as Trev gripped himself and gasped.

     "Oh, God... I thought I'd never feel like this again... ahhhhhhh... "

     As Trev's uncut meat erupted, Wiscoup'a caught the white spurts deftly in
his mouth, before taking the prong in. He sucked the last volleys down, then
pushed his tongue under the new skin, lapping at the plump glans. Trev panted
as he shook in pleasure that bordered achingly upon pain.

     "Wiscoup'a... " he gasped.

     The native took pity, releasing Trev's cock to embrace and kiss his
friend on the grassy bank of the creek. Trev hugged and kissed back hard. Both
men felt joyously whole again, after having had parts of themselves taken
mercilessly by uncaring forces, against their will, seemingly without any
remedy.

     On a whim, Trev shifted his body and the pair rolled into the water.
Wiscoup'a and he arose to stand dripping and laughing as they embraced again
in ecstasy. Their neighbors' attention was finally attracted by all the
curious activity.

     "Is something wrong?" they heard Lou ask as he approached.

     "No, Lou," Wiscoup'a smiled, turning to look at him.

     "Your face! What... How... "

     "It was the Heart Call!" Tasokah breathed in awe, joining them. The other
three understood at once.

* * *

     When Tavani had awoken that morning, he had automatically reached across
the blankets he shared with Tlaccotan to caress his lover's face, to initiate
an early morning bout of love-making. Tlaccotan sleepily took the proffered
hand and kissed it. But the heron chief felt something was amiss, an oddly
different feel to his partner's fingers as they touched his lips, something
that roused the native to full wakefulness.

     Tlaccotan sat up and looked at Tavani's hand, his eyes filling with
silent wonder. The red headed man looked also and froze in shock. The finger
he had lost long ago in a sawmill accident was back.

* * *

     Those four tribesmen proved not to be the only ones so favored by the
beneficent energies the Elxa had invoked through the Heart Call. As the
morning progressed, other tribesmen with lesser injuries than the ones Tavani,
Wiscoup'a, Trev or Silas had suffered found themselves whole once again. These
miracles awed the entire the Elxa tribe.

     Those four in particular, and all the other healings that had happened
overnight, were eventually brought to the attention of the tribal council.
Falling Star ordered all the details to be written down, so future Elxa would
never forget what the Heart Call had wrought among them. But even those
amazing feats of healing were destined to be eclipsed by events yet to be
revealed...

* * *

     Falling Star surprised many of his fellow tribesmen by his decision to
remain in Roman Rock during the days following the eventful and powerful rite
the tribe had observed. He was not idle. Much of his time was spent in
conducting spirit-quests for those who wished to make such a journey.

     None but Lou, Nizano and Red Hand guessed what it was Falling Star was
waiting for. The Elxa shaman looked daily for portentous news, hoping to hear
if the ambitious purposes he had set for the love-power the heron men had
conjured and unleashed through the Heart Call were truly accomplished. Falling
Star believed they had been, but he still wanted to witness it with his own
eyes.

     The first of these two great tasks was revealed when Zack and Eben
returned to Roman Rock. They were accompanied by another man whose features
shocked those who caught glimpses of him before he entered the lodge where
Falling Star was staying. Strange rumors circulated in the camp, but no one
saw the man again, as he kept to the lodge and was seen only by Falling Star
and his immediate circle.

     Then one day, three white men rode into Roman Rock. Big Otter and his
lover, Dark Fire, had gone to Port Bolon, in obedience to the medicine dream
that had come to Big Otter, and they had ended up bringing back Mel's partner,
Larry. The men's arrival did not excite much comment. Nizano was with Falling
Star when the news of their coming was brought.

     "Do you remember what I told you about Larry?"

     "What Om-yomac saw in his vision quest? Yes."

     "Larry's old self is dead," the shaman went on. "I will send him on a
spirit quest today. I want Red Hand to assist me with this task. Please find
him and send him to me."

     "I will."

     "And one more thing. Tell Tlaccotan I wish to call the tribe together in
council tomorrow. There are things that they all must know before I return to
the cave of mysteries."

* * *

     Mel came as soon as he heard his partner had arrived. The dark brown
haired man fell into Mel's arms and they just kissed and hugged for awhile.
Then, going aside under a nearby tree to have a talk, Larry told Mel about the
incredible thing that had happened to him.

     He had been alone at their cabin, on the outskirts of Port Bolon,
settling in for the night, when he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Larry lost
consciousness and knew nothing until he had revived three days later, finding
Big Otter and his partner, Dark Fire, laying him out for his funeral. The town
doctor, who had declared Larry dead, was aghast, and blamed what had happened
to Larry on a rare condition called catalepsy, a total suspension of all signs
of life.

     Phil and Mark were relating their versions of this unusual event to their
friends as well. As the stories circulated in the camp, Lou eventually heard
them. Wondering, he sought out the one Falling Star had given the Elxa name
Akapomac, meaning 'Dead-man-alive'.

     Some days before, Lou had become acquainted with Job Byrd and learned all
that had happened between him and the deranged pimp Mueller. To say Lou had
been taken aback by the story would not quite have described his feelings. The
confirmation of the things he had seen in his vision quest, like the hook
shaped scar on Mueller's face, were disquieting proofs of alternate realities
and forces Lou had not imagined existing only a month before.

     But that, and the experiences Lou had shared with the Elxa tribe during
the Beltane ritual, had prepared him somewhat for what he halfway expected to
see when he found Larry. Indeed, he recognized the man's face at once. It was
identical to the visage of the beast-thing that had been slain in Lou's
medicine vision, and from which the ring had been taken. The conclusion Lou's
mind came to was inescapable: if Larry had really died, then Falling Star must
have used the love energy raised by the Heart Call to...

     "No." Lou muttered to himself incredulously, his rational mind still
unable to wrap itself around the concept of Larry's resurrection in spite of
all he had seen and experienced in the past few days: the things he had
learned on his journey to the valley of the heron and been shown in his spirit
quest, not to mention the explanations Falling Star had attempted to give him.
"It just couldn't be... " he managed.

     But just then another memory came and sliced easily through Lou's dense
skepticism. Again, he heard the words of the heron shaman, a soft sibilant
murmur echoing in his mind, nourishing his faith in the love energy that was
the root and source of the Elxa tribe's power, binding it together. The same
power Falling Star had tapped into during the rite of the Heart Call. A quiet,
reassuring affirmation: '...the power of love can do anything when you open
yourself to it, my son. Miracles can happen... '

* * *

     "Falling Star!" a voice cried as the heron shaman took his seat amid the
gathered crowd, all seated in a large circle within the sacred ceremonial
fane.

     "Falling Star!" many voices responded.

     "Hear me, my brothers," the shaman began as the shouts died away. "A few
days ago, when we made the Heart Call, I asked you to trust me with this new
power that Hun Tzu has brought us knowledge of. Now I can tell you what I
accomplished with it, during our rite.

     "When I sent our brother Om-yomac out on his spirit quest, he had a
vision of someone being slain. When he told me about it, I knew the person of
whom he spoke from the description he gave. He also brought a token that had
belonged to the dead man back with him from the spirit realm."

     Falling Star held up a oddly decorated gold ring. Mel and Larry, seated
nearby, recognized it at once. Mel had given it to Larry before he had left
Port Bolon that spring to go to the valley of the heron.

     "I thought it was lost!" Larry exclaimed, taking the offered ring.

     "How did you... " began Mel. Falling Star went on.

     "The spirits that protect the Elxa had sentenced Akapomac to death, but
with the help of the power raised by the Heart Call, I overturned their
verdict. I channeled the energy of our rite across the many miles to Port
Bolon, restoring him to life."

     Those words caused a rippling of gasps and other muted signs of
incredulity to pass through the gathered crowd.

     "I must tell you now that Akapomac is not the only brother of ours who
has returned from the dead."

     Falling Star called and the man who had been escorted to Roman Rock by
Eben and Zack emerged from the nearby lodge he had been waiting in. He went to
take a seat next to the heron shaman. He was recognized by many of the
onlooking heron men.

     "Xaculi!" Heyoka gasped, echoing the astonishment of many others as the
Elxa elder who had died not so long ago gazed calmly out at the staring crowd.

     "Yes, my brothers," he responded. His softly spoken words went out to the
hushed crowd. "I have returned from the place all men eventually go, but my
memory of the experience is unclear, as if it had been a dream. I bring back
no grand revelations of the life beyond, except to assure you that it exists
and it is good. Nevertheless, I am very glad to be back, here, among my
brothers."

     Eben, who was sitting next to Xaculi, hugged the man. The gesture said
what he and all the others felt. They too were glad to have the beloved elder
back with them, despite the logical objections of many of the onlookers, who
had trouble believing death itself had been conquered by their collective
efforts,

     "I have been told what the white doctor in Port Bolon has said," Falling
Star continued, "and it is best that he continue to think that Akapomac was
the victim of an unusual condition, lest outsiders not of our nature invade
our refuge, seeking knowledge of this new power we wield.

     "So now you know, my brothers. With the Heart Call we can accomplish
miraculous things. But from this day forward I charge everyone in the Elxa
tribe to keep these mysteries a closely guarded secret, never to be spoken of
except with another tribesman."

     Falling Star fell silent and a murmuring sound of agreement spread
throughout the crowd. Then other subjects were brought to the group's
attention and discussed. Judgements were rendered and plans approved, before
the assembly of heron men turned their attention at last to a huge tribal
celebration of sports and ribald song and feasting that lasted long into the
star-studded night.

* * *

     A few days later, a group of travelers reached one particular waterfall
on Heron Creek that marked the halfway point between Roman Rock and the cave
of mysteries. As soon as Hun Tzu saw the sparkling cataract that fell from the
warm, swirling pool above, his spirit knew his new home would be somewhere
nearby.

     As a master of feng-shui, the geomancer recognized the crystalline falls
at once as another power spot, and a highly propitious place to build,
surrounded as it was by copious upwellings of invisible earth energies. As he
confirmed his suspicions by taking a reading with the lo-pan, the others
noticed. Mayati asked what he saw.

     "It is a dragon, salivating silver and gold," Hun Tzu said cryptically,
nodding at the water falling over a moss covered, upthrust of pink granite. "A
place of great power. This is where I wish to build my home."

     "Well," Will began, gesturing towards the grassy fields that fanned out
to the northward from that point, "this is where we thought would be a good
spot for our ranch. Silas and I and our young friends will be here for awhile,
buildin' them a cabin. If you help us, we'd be happy to return the favor."

     "Of course, thank you," returned Hun Tzu.

     "Didn't you say you planned to build a barn of your own, near your
cabin?"

     "Yeah, but that can wait until you and Eric are properly housed, Zeb,"
Will answered.

     "It's not as if we don't have a lotta potential help," added Silas. "I'm
sure our fellow heron men will pitch in from time to time."

     "What do you think, Tasokah?" Lou asked. "Should we build our cabin
around here someplace?"

     "Yes, my love. Having neighbors such as these would complete our
happiness."

     Bringing up the rear of the group, Bill glanced questioningly at Job. The
lad grinned and nodded vigorously, a visual 'Okay!'. Together, the group moved
to the nearby campsite, around which they would make their home for the next
few months.

* * *

     The weeks stretched languidly by, and by degrees the area around the
campsite, named Heron Ranch by the men who formed the new community there,
shaded into a glorious summer. The ten men worked and hunted and played
together, forging strong bonds of friendship. When the days turned hot, they
worked in breechclouts or unclothed altogether, sweat streaking the suntouched
skin over their straining muscles and flattening body fur, aware and glad of
the visual pleasure their tanned nakedness gave to their comrades.

     They would wash and swim in the warm waters of the pool above the
waterfall. And then relax, sunning themselves on the flat rocks scattered
conveniently all around the waters. One day, Tasokah observed that his
companions were becoming as dark skinned as he and Mayati were.

     They carved out a garden along one bank of Heron Creek, above the pool.
While the young plants matured, the men turned to the bounty all around them
for sustenance, learning from their native brothers as they hunted and
gathered wild plants. In the evenings they shared their food, sitting around a
campfire at each day's end to talk or sing or make slow love.

     Shame became a concept unknown to them. Eric revelled in his freedom from
hated convention, often taking his lover by the fire, knowing his pleasure,
and Zeb's, gave pleasure to those who watched. And more often than not their
companions would feel the beauty of the act and turn to their own partners,
yearning for the special caresses that only lover may give lover.

     Sometimes, one or more of the men would leave, to visit friends at Roman
Rock. Or follow Heron Creek upstream to the cave of mysteries, to see Falling
Star. Then they would sit in the cool cavern by his small fire, studying the
odd, colorful glyphs on the rock walls and listening to the words of the wise
shaman as he spoke of spiritual mysteries, of the inner natures of man-loving
men, and the potentials their love held, possibilities the Heart Call had made
plain to them all.

     By mutual agreement, the heron men in council had decided to hold a Heart
Call every full moon. But since it would be too onerous for the scattered
tribe to gather monthly at Roman Rock, it was thought that smaller circles
could gather wherever convenient to make the love-magic. The nature of the
Heart Call would allow the energy raised by these dispersed groups to unite
and spread its spiritual balm over every member of the tribe.

     Often, the men of Heron Ranch just wandered where their fancy took them,
exploring and familiarizing themselves with the surrounding countryside. And
of course, others visited them. During that summer, it seemed many of the
inhabitants and visitors at Roman Rock were dividing their time between that
place and Heron Ranch.

     With the assistance of the many Elxa braves who visited Heron Ranch over
the course of that amazing summer, the men's log houses went up in an
unhurried manner. Hun Tzu's cabin rose a stone's throw beyond the cascading
torrent below the pool, on a rocky patch of ground that the trees could not
colonize. As the walls rose, the geomancer watched with delight as dark mosses
spread themselves across the logs, almost in a loving manner, clothing the
structure in a soft, living skin.

     On the opposite side of Heron Creek, beside the trail that ran between
Roman Rock and the cave of mysteries, Lou and Tasokah found a site shaded by
huge hemlocks and tall firs. Eric and Zeb, Bill and Job, all decided to build
the furthest from the water, at the far edge of the surrounding woods. There,
the trees thinned and gave way to a vast mountain meadow, a rippling green sea
of grass rising and stretching away to distant hills marking the northern
watershed of Heron Creek.

     They decided to dig a well, not wanting to have to carry water from the
creek during the coming winter. Job cut some willow branches and surprised his
comrades by dowsing for water, as one of his uncles had taught him. Hun Tzu
confirmed the spot the young man chose with the lo-pan and they did not have
to dig far before they hit water. Hun Tzu began to look at Job with more
interest, thinking of the lad as a possible apprentice in the subtle arts he
practiced.

     They built a spacious barn with a corral as well, and began to reap the
tall, lush grass, laboring naked in the sun throughout the golden, hazy days.
In July, Mark, Chris and Greg came to them, driving a dozen head of cattle and
four horses, as well as bringing a branding iron, specially made by Lars, the
blacksmith in Grant. Soon, the animals all bore the sign of the heron as a
brand.

     Turned loose to feed in the verdant grasslands, the cows waxed fat and
the horses grew sleek and fast. By August, the animals were all healthy and
there was a large barn full of hay waiting for them, more than enough to
content them during the long winter. Silas and Will left at that time, to
return to their own home, finish their barn and put in supplies for the
winter. Their leave-taking provided an excuse for a celebratory feast that was
spoken of for long thereafter.

     As the days shortened, the Elxa braves who visited were usually just
passing through, many turning north from Heron Ranch to take the trail that
led to Lemolo Lake, to help their brothers who lived near there. Phil and his
partner, Mark, were building a cabin of their own near the lake, while Will
and Silas completed their barn. A wagon road from the east side of the lake to
False Pass was also under construction, giving the men of the town ample
opportunity to socialize with their brothers who chose to live in the
traditional native manner in the valley of the heron.

     The work was completed well before autumn ended. Visitors from Roman Rock
became fewer, until gradually, they ceased. Preparations for winter fully
occupied those who lived in the wilderness valley. Under the guidance of
Mayati and Tasokah, the men of Heron Ranch hunted and fished, preserving the
present bounty of the land for future use.

     Meat was hung and dried in a smokehouse: strips of venison, elk, and
bear, fillets of fish, dozens of turkeys, geese, grouse and ducks. Skin sacks
were filled with nuts and berries preserved in goose fat. Herbs were gathered,
dried and carefully put aside. Mayati rendered bear grease and showed his
companions how the wondrous Elxa salve was made, producing enough of the
stiff, fulvous lube to keep them well and happily supplied for the foreseeable
future.

     The eight men settled in for the winter. Zeb and Eric, Bill and Job,
Tasokah and Lou in their new homes. And Hun Tzu was joined in his cabin by
Mayati, who decided to abandon his home of several years along the lower
reaches of Heron Creek to live with his flute-brother, as he called Hun Tzu.

     As the nights turned colder, and the mornings revealed crusts of paper
thin ice along the edges of the creek, the men double checked their ample
woodpiles and added to them while they could. The flocks of geese flying south
in huge vee formations seemed to call 'Hurry, hurry!' as they passed overhead.
The first snowfall found them as ready as native experience and ingenuity
could make them.

     The animals grew their valuable winter coats, for which the men set
traps. They caught beaver, fox and, occasionally, mink and otter. The task of
preserving the hides became a communal effort. As the men worked, skinning,
scraping and soaking the animal furs, Tasokah and Mayati took advantage of the
time the group spent together to teach the others the Elxa language.

     The gray winter skies brought storm after storm. Soon the snow lay in
great powdery dunes, shaped and shifted at will by the wind, heaped against
the log walls of the cabins and the barn. Well-traveled trails appeared,
connecting the isolated buildings, becoming veritable trenches with time as
the snowpack grew.

     At odd intervals, the sun would rise in a sky unbelievably clear and
blue, shedding its too-brilliant light in vain on a frozen, crystalline world.
In that illumination, the wind would come and sift snow the consistency of
powdered sugar, making little ice devils that sparkled surrealistically as
the gelid spindrift spun and swirled across the frozen landscape. Wrapped
warmly in their greatcoats of fur, hooded and mittened, the men of Heron Ranch
saw to the chores and tended the animals while wondering at the changes in the
land wrought by winter.

     During the long, cold nights, the couples would come together before
their blazing hearths. Holding one another, making slow love in warm, plush
nests of blankets and furs. Expressing and exploring the extent of the tender
feelings they held for their partners, each made their personal progress
gently and determinedly along the Way of the Heron.

     And sometimes music would come to them as they coupled by the light of
their fires. It penetrated with an almost mystical ease through the white
drifts that lay so thickly around the snowbound cabins, though those frozen
blankets seemed to muffle all other sounds. As they loved, Eric and Zeb, Job
and Bill, Lou and Tasokah, would hear the haunting music of two flutes
playing.

     Hun Tzu and Mayati produced a profoundly moving soul-song. One that
emanated from their hearts, from what they held in their hearts, for each
other. Each note floated like a snowflake on the gelid air, recalling to their
listeners the aching bliss of summer.

     And hearing an echo of that carefree season, of the times when clothing
could be discarded at will and love might be made in fields of wildflowers
under warm, friendly skies, the men deepened into their partners' love. They
would plumb the depths of the wordless song each held in his own man-loving
male heart. And consider the tender mysteries they found there, the wellspring
of their very beings, that which made them the men they were.

     Each had overcome great obstacles. A lifetime of outside pressures and
inner doubts had been resisted and defeated by listening to what their own
hearts told them, by being open to the truth about their man-loving natures,
and by being willing to learn from other men like themselves. It was a path
few men like them had the good fortune to find and recognize and follow, but
it had led them at last to a life of love and power and freedom in the valley
of the heron.

* * *

EPILOGUE

* * *

     On a warm July night, two months after the initial, momentous Heart Call,
Felix and Nick retired to an isolated spot in the woods near False Pass. They
spread out a blanket by the silvery light of an ebullient full moon, preparing
to observe the monthly Heart Call agreed upon by the members of the Elxa
tribe. But the pair had a specific intent, a wish they hoped to be made real.
They had spoken of this to their friends in False Pass, and as those men also
began to make love, to summon the effulgent, matchless power of the Heart
Call, they thought lovingly of their friends, Nick and Felix, and of the
accomplishment of those men's desires.

     The power Nick and Felix raised with their love meshed with that summoned
by other couples throughout the heron country. A living force, gently attuned
to the desires of man-loving men. Again, all involved felt a pure essence of
Love touch their souls, deepening their feelings towards their lovers and
friends.

     After the strong love they had shared, and an easy time of rest in one
another's arms, Felix and Nick rose, gathered their blankets and headed back
into town. Everything was still and peaceful as Nick went into their home.
Felix paused for a few moments on the front porch to take a piss.

     Vapor wafted off his arcing stream as it flew to spatter the gravelly
ground. As he finished, a sound made him look up. A shadowy figure, of a horse
being led by a man, had appeared at the far end of the street.

     Felix stood watching, waiting for the man to come closer. The strong
moonlight was revealing and deceptive at the same time. Felix could tell the
man was thickly muscular and had longish dark hair and a bushy beard, but not
much else. It was not until the man was quite close before Felix could see his
face clearly. Each recognized the other at the same time.

     "Felix?" the man asked, stopping in surprise.

     "Bo!" Felix almost leapt off the porch and into the man's arms as he
cried the name. "Bo!" he repeated before their lips met. The kiss was urgent,
joyous...

     "Oh, God, I thought I'd never get here!" hissed Bo as he hugged Felix
fiercely to him, tears of joy in his eyes. "I had such a struggle to get back
to you!"

     "Hush, amigo, you're home now, and me and Nick ain't ever gonna let you
go away again, never!"

     "Nick... Is my brother okay?"

     "Yeah, and Alex too," Felix whispered, "We all still love you... Damn,
this is a miracle! We prayed for this tonight, that you'd come home, and our
friends here in False Pass also, along with us... "

     "Don't tell me y'all got religion while I was gone!" sniffed Bo, smiling
as he wiped his eyes, teary with happiness.

     "No, it's just that the heron men have discovered something wonderful,
the Heart Call, a power... but it's a long story Bo, and it can wait. Come
inside. Our bed is waitin' for us."

     "Lemme put my horse away first... Huh! Speakin' of needin' to put things
away... "

     Bo's fingers had found Felix's dangling cock. Felix had forgotten to tuck
himself away after taking his piss. Bo knelt and took the limp length into his
mouth, unable to resist doing what he had dreamed of all during his trek. As
the tube of tasty flesh thickened and plumped up in his mouth, Felix gasped
and pulled away.

     "I want you badly too, Bo," he panted. "So badly I can taste it. But
please, not here in the street... "

     "Okay." Bo said as he stood up and hugged Felix. "I love you," he hissed
fiercely.

     The pair kissed again and went to take care of Bo's horse, seeing it was
properly bedded down in a stall with plenty to eat. Then it was Bo's turn.
They entered the bedroom Bo used to share with his lovers and saw Nick
standing naked at a washbasin, his back to the door as he splashed his face.

     "It's about time you got back," he muttered, thinking he was speaking
only to Felix. "I'm ready to cuddle with you, buddy!"

     "Me too, Nick!" Bo choked, feeling his eyes tearing up again as he
embraced his brother from behind. "Me too!"

     "Bo! My God! Is it really you?" Nick cried as he turned and became lost
in a deep kiss with his brother.

     Felix lost his clothes and moved to help Nick strip Bo. His kinship
with Nick was shown in his thickly muscled body, covered in a thick pelt
of dark brown fur. Like his brother, a generous length of peckermeat hung
between his legs, rising along with the other men's cocks, getting ready
for a long session of lovemaking in the wide and comfortable bed the trio
had shared in the past.

     Bo felt complete again as Nick slid his ample cock up his brother's
ass. Bo gasped for Felix. At once the handsome Hispanic straddled Bo's
heaving chest and fed him his brown skinned tool, this time not intending
to remove it until he had fed Bo his nutjuice. As Bo felt his aching
manhood gripped in Nick's greasy hand, being stroked towards the first of
many releases he would have in the course of that night, he gave himself
over to his lovers' passions completely, ebulliently rapt in the knowledge
that he was finally home, with his own kind, man-lovers, in the place he
was meant to be.

* * *

THE END

* * *

the end of part II

of Follow The Heron's Song

the eighth chapter 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 1/22/2009