Way of the Heron

The Way Of The Heron

By C. T. Creekmur

Chapter Twelve

Heron World

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

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

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

Historical Note: This chapter happens during April of 1869. The action is set in the valley of the heron and in and around the town of Steens Station, which is a day's travel to the east of a secret pass through the southern Cascade Mountains that leads into the valley of the heron.

And now, on with the story!

HERON WORLD

A dangerous enemy comes, threatening to destroy the heron men and all they have built...

At the same time, an unearthly, mysterious land, beyond imagination, is revealed to the Elxa, beckoning, offering a new beginning...

Is it the end of the valley of the heron, or can the heron men survive long enough to learn the secrets of...

HERON WORLD

It was a brilliant morning. The sun shone strongly down on this last day of March in the year 1869, warming the land and making the rushing waters of Heron Creek, swollen by melting snow, glitter and flash as they roared over a small waterfall, coursing toward the sea. The branches of the deciduous trees that stood along its banks were tinged with a light green that fairly glowed in the new sunlight, their tender new leaves a contrast to the dark green of the pines and firs that shared the land. Spring had come early and forcefully that year to the Elxa's secluded valley and a welcome warmth encompassed the little community of Heron Ranch.

Not far from the edge of the pool that swirled, foamed and splashed above the waterfall, a heron man reclined on a bright purple blanket outspread in the sun, his clothing carelessly discarded in a heap nearby. After the long winter, he found it good to feel the touch of the light on his skin again. From time to time he ran his hands across himself, his chest and belly and crotch, fluffing the light colored body fur that grew on him everywhere and feeling the wonderful warmth it had absorbed from the sun.

And as the days lengthened and warmed, he thought with a sigh, there would be other touches to look forward to. Gentle, joyful games to play with his heron brothers. Anywhere he might find them across the land, in fields of new grass and blooming wildflowers, or in the shadows of great trees or ancient boulders...

A new sound, slow and hollow and metallic, fought through the soothing noises of the flooding stream and came to his ears. He opened one eye and peered down a trail he knew led towards Roman Rock. A white man the sunbather did not recognize was approaching the clearing on a bay horse, shod hooves ringing rhythmically on bare stone.

The prone man lay still and waited for the stranger to come closer, as unconcerned for his safety as he was about his nudity. In the valley of the heron there were forces ancient and powerful, watching over it and the man-loving men who lived there, totems whom the prone man believed in and trusted. Those spirits would have warned him or his brothers long before now had a man not of their nature intruded on their refuge.

When the rider spotted the naked white man he reined in his horse in mild surprise. Despite knowing where he was, in the valley of the heron, populated by men who shared his nature and lived free, expressing those feelings freely and easily, the newcomer was not used to such sights. Nevertheless, he paused, drinking in the man's comely form with his eyes, knowing he was being watched as well.

The prone form was thickset and brawny, with a thick tawny fur growing across the ridges and curves of a muscular body. His hair and beard were long and darker, the color of honey in shade. From another such patch of dark blonde hair, his manhood lay long and relaxed, propped up against one hairy thigh, pointing away from the stream.

The recumbent man continued to remain still. But knowing he was being watched, his naked body the object of another man's silent appreciation, had its inevitable effect. Under the stranger's fixed gaze, the relaxed member came to life.

It stirred and swelled and began to lengthen. The puckered foreskin grew taut and retracted by degrees until the rose-pink tip of the engorged glans appeared, moist with precum. The whole moved by degrees until the pole of flesh lay rampant and full on his furry belly, pointing upstream.

Seeing this, the stranger dismounted and came closer. Now the man on the blanket could see clearly the newcomer's handsome face. And the look of lusty longing he carried in his dark blue-gray eyes. Silently, a question and an assent passed between them.

Doffing his hat, he hung it on the saddle horn and let his horse wander off to nibble at the new grass. The sunlight caught at his long, chestnut hair, drawing glints of red from it as he smoothed it back with one hand. The other fell to brush the taut fullness in the crotch of his jeans, pushing outward...

"I'm Jeff Symms," the man said softly, smiling. "I'm on my way to the cave of mysteries, to see the shaman Falling Star. I was told this trail would lead me to his home."

"My name's Zeb Alden," the man on the blanket responded. "Don't worry partner, you're on the right path."

"I wasn't expectin' to meet any white men here."

Zeb sat up in response, on the edge of the blanket, facing Jeff. His cock waved as he moved, standing proudly before his belly. Jeff looked at it, then at Zeb's face. Again, a wordless understanding passed between them and Jeff tugged at his shirt collar, beginning to undo the buttons.

"I spent some time with Tlaccotan, in Roman Rock. He says that sometimes, words are unnecessary," Jeff murmured as he pulled off his clothes, "but... "

I want to tell you, man of the honey hair, how handsome you are, as I see you now: looking wild, naked and free, caressed by amorous Spring sunlight, caressed as gently as I would wish to do... "

"Your song is beautiful, like you, my brother... " Zeb whispered, smiling in sincere appreciation of Jeff's impromptu verses, a sign that the newcomer already felt the power of the Way of the Heron in his man-loving heart.

Soon the cowboy's clothing joined Zeb's in the untidy pile nearby. Freed, Jeff's cock swung outward and rose, allowing a drop of precum to fall, leaving a long, weblike strand to hang from the tip of his foreskin and gleam in the sunlight. Zeb reached out to gently touch Jeff's moist and quivering flesh, cupping his genitals with fingers that trembled with desire.

"Yes... You are very beautiful, my brother," Zeb breathed, before rising to embrace the man, to feel their bodies touch at all possible points, to begin to kiss and taste, to know this new brother and share with him what Zeb had learned of the Way of the Heron.

A short time previously, in the cool, dark hours before the dawning of that same day, somewhere along the eastern shore of Lemolo Lake in the northern reaches of the valley of the heron, though that fact was unknown to him at that time, Randolph Shifflet had been awakened by a touch. He felt the warmth of the man who shared the blankets, pressed more than comfortably against the length of his body. He registered the sensations one by one: the always-arousing prickle of a hairy chest pressed against his back, two kneecaps filling the hollows behind Randy's knees, fingers combing through his black chest fur, slowly, gently...

Somewhere out in the darkness an owl hooted as it sought a sheltering roost against the coming day. Randy listened to its plaintive cry, and moved slightly. Now his lover knew he was awake.

Behind him, Jonathan Taverner shifted as well, his hands widening their field of exploration as his lips joined in. They touched the great artery that throbbed in Randy's throat with a breathy kiss. Randy let a little gasp of passion escape from his own lips.

Becoming painfully aware of his erection, Randy reached to appease his demanding member. Jonathan's hand slid down to gently cup and fondle Randy's balls. Randy could feel his lover's hard cock pressing against the small of his back, still slick with a wonderful lube they had picked up in the last town they visited, False Pass.

Randy smiled to himself, remembering. One of the three handsome men who ran a stable in that town had noticed his and Jonathan's pack mule had injured itself. The hurt was not bad, but it was enough to have caused the animal to go lame eventually had it not been treated.

The stableman had applied a fulvous grease to the cut and gave the travelers a small sack of it for future use. As Jonathan had dressed the wound again later, he discovered how amazingly slick the substance was and talked his partner into trying another use for it. The tawny colored salve proved to be the best sex lube the pair had ever encountered.

Reaching around behind him, Randy grasped Jonathan's hot, slippery tube of flesh. Its loose coat of skin slid easily over the steely gristle underneath. Randy deftly guided the hooded tip to his asshole, likewise still slick with the mirific, strangely tingling grease. He felt his lover's glans push against the sensitive ring of muscle.

Randy relaxed and Jonathan glided easily into his lover's body, in one long, slow, delicious motion. When he felt the hair on his lover's balls prickling his backside, Randy clinched his innards, trying to hold Jonathan where he was. Panting with rising passion, Jonathan fought against the sweet resistance as he pulled out and thrust back in, settling into a rhythm that Randy knew his lover could maintain for upwards of a hour if he wished.

Time passed. The horizon brightened, dimming the stars. Seeing it, Randy whispered a request to Jonathan and his lover agreed with a smile, pleased to be a participant in Randy's impromptu ritual.

The men had both been holding back their orgasms, unwilling to end the pleasure they found in their connection. Therefore it was not difficult for them to delay their cumming a little longer. They threw aside the top blanket of their bedroll without breaking their sensuous bout of fucking. Ignoring the chilly air that caressed their hairy skins, they waited for the moment of sunrise.

Old Sol was greeted with cries of ecstasy that morning. Randy fisted his cock, shooting hot gouts of thick whiteness out onto the dewy grass, gasping out his thanks aloud to whatever deity had granted him Jonathan's love. Jonathan hastily shot out a hand and managed to capture most of his partner's sticky load.

Bringing the palmful of fresh mancream to his lips, he slurped the gooey savor up noisily. The musky taste was enough to trigger his own orgasm. Jonathan began to moan like a lost soul as his cock filled Randy's gut with pulsing spasms of liquid warmth.

For a long time afterward, they simply clung to one another, sweaty and shaking, feeling lightheaded from the force of their orgasms. The men lay there, recovering their strength, while the sky brightened overhead. Soon the morning star had faded from view.

"Looks like it's gonna be a beautiful day," Jonathan drawled in his thick Georgia accent, nuzzling Randy's ear. His long, red moustache hairs prickled and rasped the sensitive insides of the auricular organ, causing Randy to shudder in pleasure.

"It certainly has started out that way!" Randy agreed wholeheartedly, pressing back harder into the warmth of his lover.

At length, Jonathan's cock softened and slipped from Randy's manhole. They shifted position, facing one another for a heartfelt bearhug punctuated by a few long, deep kisses. At length, Jonathan suggested they go and wash up. Randy agreed with his lover as he wryly considered the sticky state they both were in.

The hot spring they had camped beside was a welcome destination, after picking their way through the thick growth of ferns that surrounded their camp, wet with cold dew. Thick vapors rose from the rippling pool into the chill morning air, roiling amid the branches of a sheltering myrtle tree. A large flat rock at the edge of the spring allowed them to slip easily into a deep spot. They bathed each other in the smoking waters quietly, enjoying the intimate touches as they washed. They shared a towel, then returned to don their pants and rebuild the fire to make some breakfast. Jonathan soon was looking fondly at his lover over the brim of a tin cup full of scaldingly hot coffee.

The burly man of German extraction who squatted shirtless before him had light brown eyes and hair as black as a raven's wing. A full beard the same color adorned his ruggedly handsome face. Lots more dark hair spread across his chest and arms and belly.

Though he could not see it just then, Jonathan knew the lush pelt of manfur continued on around, running across the man's shoulders and back. Jonathan absently fluffed up the crimson fur on his chest and spoke what he was thinking, without meaning to. Randy's masculine beauty had momentarily shattered his mental control.

"Ol' black bear... " he sighed.

Randy heard his secret name, the one only they knew and used, and looked up to smile at his beloved.

"Ol' red bear," he murmured back, flashing on the first time they had met and bestowed those names on each other...

"Do you think we're close?" Jonathan asked, interrupting Randy's reverie.

"That homestead we're lookin' for ought to be just to the east of us, according to the fellers we met in False Pass."

"They were a nice bunch," yawned Jonathan. "Especially those four miners we met in the saloon, who invited us to bunk down in their barn. I still think we coulda had them up in the hayloft with us, if you'd cooperated with me!"

"You're imaginin' things!" Randy grunted. "They was just friendly, that's all. But to get back to our next job, as soon as we find this guy. uh... " Randy paused to look at a letter he carried, tucked in his hat, " ...William Dern, we can survey his claim, then the other one, uh... " He looked at the paper again. "Philip Caddell's claim."

"Sounds good. I love this job, trampin' through the wilderness, campin' and sleepin' with you under the stars... " Jonathan grinned. "Who woulda thought surveyin' could have such great fringe benefits!"

"I hope you never stop wakin' me up the way you do," sighed Randy, relishing the residual tingling in his asshole. Jonathan leaned over to kiss his lover again, threatening to start the whole sequence over again...

"Farewell, Heyoka."

The Elxa tribesman looked up into the dark eyes of the speaker and smiled. He was seated in his canoe, ready to begin a journey up the Umpqua and back to the lands of the Elxa tribe. He reached out to gently touch the dark-skinned hand of the man who had spoken.

"Farewell, Qoloma," he returned warmly, "I hope I will see you again, soon."

"You will. You have given me much to think about," began Qoloma. "I shall come to visit your chieftain and hear his words of wisdom for myself, before too long."

"That is good. You will find many of our nature in the valley of the heron, friends who will welcome you gladly."

"But it is you I hope to see again, my friend," Qoloma replied before kneeling before Heyoka and whispering.

You came from the mountains like a rushing river deep and strong...

You sang to me of love showing me a soul even deeper and stronger...

It is not possible that our paths will never cross again...

My soul will always respond when it hears the whisper of yours on the wind...

"Your song is like you, my friend, gentle and beautiful. I will remember it."

Heyoka murmured his praise as Qoloma stepped into the water to kiss his friend farewell. Then Qoloma pushed the canoe away from the shore and Heyoka began to paddle against the Umpqua's dark current. Qoloma watched from the shore until the heron man rounded a bend in the river and was lost to sight.

A brief Spring shower had broken over False Pass, with a warm wind whistling wetly along the short main street of the frontier town. It rattled loose window shutters and hissed around the gaps in the doorframes of the buildings. Matt Able looked up as he heard the creaking of the full doors he used during the winter as someone pushed their way into his bar, the Trail's End. He smiled broadly at the black haired man who took off his hat and shook the raindrops off it.

"Howdy, Chris. What can I get you?"

"How about a beer?" he asked, redonning his stetson.

"Good morning," smiled the other man at the bar.

"Mornin' Doc," Chris responded, smiling at Cy Orwins before looking around. He spotted two more of his friends, Mike Gray and Tomas DeAmanto, at a table eating breakfast. Mike sounded upset as he spoke to his partner.

"...I know they were like us, I could feel it," he grumped. "But you wouldn't take a chance and let me ask 'em!"

"I know you were attracted to the dark haired one, my love," Tomas managed around a mouthful of sausage and eggs, "but it is not wise to proposition every handsome stranger who passes through False Pass. One misunderstanding and word of our refuge might spread to those who we would not want to know of it."

"Yeah, I know. But damn, he was good-lookin'!"

"What's up, guys?"

"Hi, Chris," Mike greeted him. "Oh, a couple of strangers, surveyors bound for Will Dern's place, passed through town yesterday and I talked them into sleeping in our hayloft. I'm sure they were a couple, but my pardners kept me from askin' questions and findin' out!"

"Tomas is right, Mike," Matt chimed in. "And you've been livin' here long enough to know it. Always let strangers make the first move. It's safer that way."

Mike muttered something in acquiescence and Tomas patted his hairy forearm in sympathy. Chris grinned as he turned back to the bar. Matt slid a foam-topped mug down the counter towards him with practiced ease.

"How's business, Doc?" Chris asked, deftly catching the mug and taking a drink.

Cy snorted in amusement.

"About as busy as yours, I reckon, deputy. The folks hereabout are a disgustingly healthy lot! If I didn't get a stipend from the town, I couldn't afford a beer today!"

"False Pass is a peaceful place, that's for sure. But I heard there was some trouble up at the Horn Creek Mine recently."

"Yep," Cy began. "Gabe Ormonde managed to fall down a mine shaft he was working in last Thursday."

"Is he okay?"

"Yep, just some bumps and bruises. He oughta heal up good as new. As a matter of fact, his old man took it worse than Gabe did."

"Is that so?"

"I never saw a father who doted so on his sons!" Cy grinned.

Chris grinned too, as did the others. It was well known that George Ormonde and his sons, Gabriel and Goodland, were a triad. The three men shared a love that went well beyond that prompted by their blood relationship.

The deputy thought of the times he had visited the Ormonde homestead, built beside a tributary of the Clearwater known as Horn Creek. George Ormonde and his sons, Goody and Gabe, were a hardworking trio. They had turned George's chance strike into an active silver mine, producing enough to build them a homestead which they hoped to turn into a farm. They also believed in playing hard, with each other and with any other man who fancied that sort of recreation. In short, they had fit right in with the other inhabitants of False Pass.

Word of them had eventually reached Falling Star and he invited Goodland, the elder son, to join the tribe the previous year. Goody, as his friends called him, had been to see the shaman several times since. It seemed the pair had formed a special bond. Chris thought of the handsome family of miners as he spoke again.

"I ought to go pay my respects to the poor boy," he murmured.

"That'd be just fine with Goody, I'm sure!" smiled Cy. "With his brother laid up, he's having to take care of that horny father of his all by himself! I'm sure he'd appreciate any help he could get!"

"Wouldn't exactly be a burden on Chris!" Matt smirked before wondering aloud. "I suppose Falling Star will get around to askin' George and Gabe to join the tribe, one of these days."

"Didn't you hear?" began Chris. "Goody went to see the chief just before that Beltane business last year. If his brother hadn't gone and hurt himself, I bet all three of 'em would be in the valley of the heron right now, raisin' hell and puttin' a prop under it!"

"The next time we hold one of those 'Heart Call' rituals, we oughta try and heal Gabe," Matt opined.

"That sounds like a good idea," agreed Mike.

"Yeah. Even if they aren't full members of the tribe yet, I'm sure Falling Star wouldn't mind us doing that," said Cy. "When is the next full moon?" he added. Individual heron men got together at those times every month to summon up the love-magic that the Chinese geomancer, Hun Tzu had discovered.

"Next week," Matt replied as he picked up a towel and started cleaning glasses. "What brings you into town, Chris?"

"I was hopin' Robert had gotten back from Port Bolon." he responded, finishing his drink. "Ahh. Good beer, Matt."

"Ever since I got a few pointers on liquor-makin' from those two moonshinin' heron men, Mark Nutley and Silas Trent, the quality of my brews sure have been great. I haven't had any complaints about the homemade whiskey I've bought from them, either."

Matt put a clear bottle full of brownish liquid on the bar for Chris to see. The paper label was handwritten in a scrawling, looping hand. 'Lemolo Fire Water - Lemolo Brewery - S. Trent & M. Nutley, Proprietors'.

Chris nodded and pushed the empty mug away. He knew the men and their partners had taken adjacent land claims along the eastern side of Lemolo Lake. And after helping Mark and his partner Phil Caddell build a cabin, Silas and Mark had set up a small distillery together. The new wagon road that connected False Pass to the eastern shore of Lemolo Lake, via the course of the Umpqua River, allowed the entrepreneurs to market their liquor to a thirsty outside world.

The deputy glanced at Mike and grinned at his brother heron man's frustration. From what he had heard, it sounded as if Mike had fallen for one of the surveyors who were on their way to confirm the boundaries of the recent land claims. They were the first in what some hoped would be many, so the valley of the heron would remain securely in the possession of the members of the Elxa tribe.

In the course of setting up their distillery, the pair of moonshiners had kept Chris' friends, Woody Quade and Dusty Laird, busy at their general store, ordering a variety of supplies. In addition, the new wagon road had gotten a lot of use, familiarizing it to the majority of the Elxa. The road had the additional benefit of making the getting of supplies into the valley of the heron a lot easier.

"Robert went to see about that land business, didn't he?" Matt asked, changing the subject.

"Yep."

"Well, I hope the Elxa can get clear title to their lands," said the barkeeper as he continued working. "They've lived in their valley for so long, it oughta be clear they have a right to it."

"I agree. But I've had enough experience with the law to know you can't depend on common sense to have any weight when important decisions have to be made."

"Would you like another beer?"

"Sure," Chris replied as the batwings squeaked plaintively again.

"Well, speak of the devil!" Mike smiled as Goodland Ormonde walked in and propped his rifle and pack against the wall.

"How about a drink for the road, Matt."

"Where are you off to, Goody?"

"Thought I'd go out huntin' for a few days," he answered, catching the beer Matt slid down to him. "Howdy Chris, Cy, Mike, Tomas."

"How's Gabe?"

"He's holdin' up well, Doc. Pa sure is grateful for all you've done for him. He says you're always welcome to visit."

"Thanks. I'll be by soon to check on Gabe."

"Where are you goin' huntin'?"

"Thought I'd try rangin' along the watershed between the Umpqua and the Clearwater, and mebbe further, over towards the area of the talking stone, Mike. I saw a lot of deersign when I passed that way a couple of weeks ago, comin' back from the cave of mysteries."

"You stopped at Heron Ranch, didn't you?" asked Matt.

"Yep. Dropped in on Phil and Mark at their new cabin, too as I passed by. There's quite a nice bunch of fellows there, at Heron Ranch," Goody murmured, fingering the Elxa glyphstone that hung around his neck. "As soon as Gabe's on his feet, I think I'm goin' to go and visit Falling Star again for a spell and get to know the men who live around the cave of mysteries better."

Many miles away, Falling Star stood easily in the bright sunlight of the same spring morning. From his lofty vantage point, a rocky ledge projecting out a ways beyond the jagged black maw of the cave of mysteries, he could see for miles across the sparsely wooded wasteland of broken, weathered, black lava rock. At the moment, he was watching two of his Elxa brothers.

The men were riding their horses slowly, carefully picking their way along one of the innumerable rugged ravines that scarred the landscape away to the eastward. The pair were seeking a mountain pass known only to the Elxa that would take them across the snowy Cascade range and bring them into the high, arid grasslands that lay to the east of the valley of the heron. There the task their shaman had set them lay. Falling Star murmured a prayer for the travelers.

Spirits of the land protect them

Spirits of the sky protect them

Spirit of the heron live in their hearts and enrich their souls...

As his words ended, a slight sound caused Falling Star to turn. His dark eyes swept the stony meadow that spread out to the west of the entrance to the cave of mysteries. They alighted on his heron brother, Tolatil.

His fellow tribesman was working, cleaning up the campsite he and the two men who had just left had shared the night before. Tolatil was almost done with his task. He had only the blankets left to deal with.

Tolatil shook them out, shouldered them and turned to go to the nearby cabin. There was something in his manner, in the deliberate movement of his hands, that touched a chord in the shaman. So Falling Star moved, following his friend inside the building.

"I sense you are troubled, my brother," the shaman's words sounded quietly in the cool shade within the doorway.

"Yes," admitted Tolatil, as he hung the blankets up, draping them over a rack made of cedar to air out. The spicy scent of the aromatic wood tickled their nostrils as he worked. "It concerns Il-Xochitl."

"Ah, yes."

"Do I have a right to feel the way I do about him?" Tolatil began, seating himself once he had finished.

"You feel love for Il-Xochitl," murmured the shaman, sitting next to Tolatil. "That cannot be a bad thing."

"But the spirits who guide our tribe have paired him with another. I cannot help but wish that it was I who had been so favored."

"Ah, you speak of Long Lance," the chief smiled, using the tribal name he had bestowed on Job Byrd, an appellation whose aptness was well understood by those who knew the young man best. "You know I have been seeking visions, trying to discover the nature of the danger that threatens our tribe."

"Yes."

"Lately, those visions have sharpened, showing me new details, some of which bear on your situation."

"How so?"

"Though the things I have seen are vague, shadows of what may come, I can say this much: new brothers are coming to us, and in one of them Long Lance will find a new love. Il-Xochitl's feelings for you are obvious and strong. Who else would he turn to, once Long Lance finds the lover our spirits have brought for him?"

Tolatil looked into his chieftain's violet-black eyes, orbs that shone with love, as he replied.

"Your words give me great joy."

"Perhaps it would be wise for you to seek a vision yourself," Falling Star mused. "What the spirits reveal is different for each man, given according to his understanding."

"I shall certainly do as you suggest."

As Falling Star left the guest cabin he glanced up, noticing movement. He saw Xaculi descending, following a ledge that he knew led from a cave higher up in the cliffs above the cave of mysteries. He moved to meet the heron elder as he reached the grassy plateau.

"Is all well, my brother?"

"Yes. Our friends left to go to Steens Station last night. They promised to watch over their brothers who journey there."

Falling Star knew Xaculi referred to the Spirit-Wolf and Taxonka, the lover of Hunts-by-night, who had returned to the Elxa after many years. Like the Spirit-Wolf, Taxonka had great powers which he used in the defense of his heron brothers, and he and Xaculi had been friends, long ago, when Xaculi was a younger man. Because of the many warning of danger coming from the east the tribe had received, Taxonka and the Spirit-Wolf had gone to make sure no one molested the heron men who then journeyed to Steens Station at Falling Star's request.

"That is good," the shaman murmured as he nodded at the nearby hot spring. "Shall we soak and talk, my brother?"

"Yes," answered Xaculi as he tugged at the knots holding his native garb on. "The hot water does my old bones good."

Randy ducked as he rode under a tree branch. His passing shook it and he felt a shower of dew falling from the tender young leaves above. The water splattered across the back of his greatcoat and dripped from the brim of his hat. Randy let his horse pick its way along the trail they followed, his mind occupied by other thoughts.

Soon after leaving their camp of the previous night, beside the new wagon road they had followed from False Pass, the surveyors had encountered a landmark they had been warned to watch for. It was a standing stone, an old one if the thick growth of rock lichen upon it was considered, rearing itself by the road they followed. Many odd native pictoglyphs festooned its surface, like ones the men had seen in other places. But one, larger than the rest, as if to emphasize its importance, commanded their attention.

It was a graceful, curling mark, and one they knew of from odd legends the pair had heard since coming to Oregon. They had discussed it for a short while, trying to remember what they knew about it before resuming their journey. At that point, they left the wagon road and turned inland, away from the lake, following a rougher road that their directions said would lead them to the claim they sought.

Randy was distracted from the mystery of the odd glyph when he spotted a brightness that indicated a break in the trees ahead of him. He reined in his horse. Twisting around in the saddle, the man peered back the way he had come. Randy's eyes traced the broad, wagon-rutted path he and his companion were following, looking behind him to check on Jonathan.

Sunlight, tinted green as it fell through the lightly leafed branches above, fell to illuminate the fern-choked forest floor. Randy saw his partner tugging on a tether rope that connected his mount to the mule that carried their supplies. The morning light struck rich sparks of crimson and gold from the hair that showed under his wide brimmed hat, the bristling beard and the ponytail that swung between his shoulders.

Jonathan was cussing out their balky pack mule again. The Georgia twang in his voice as he urged the recalcitrant beast onward with some unprintable and uncomplimentary comments on the mule's ancestry had its usual effect on Randy. Even though the men had made love again that morning before breaking camp, desire for the redhead began to rise in Randy's body again, like the spring sap rising in the trees all around him.

"What's the matter?" Jonathan asked as he neared his lover.

"Nothing, I'm just enjoyin' the view!" said Randy, urging his horse to a walk so he could ride beside Jonathan when he caught up to where Randy sat.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Randy pulled the front of his greatcoat aside so Jonathan could see the long bulge snaking down one pantleg.

"You're a horny bastard for a yankee, you know that?" the Southerner snorted in amusement.

"You complainin'?"

"Hell no!" the redhead exclaimed, looking around. "Too bad there's nowhere around here to spread out a blanket and do something about that insatiable dick of yours!"

"And if there was," Randy asked as they rode along, "what would you do?"

Jonathan grinned. He knew Randy was turned on by the sound of his voice. And loved it when he talked dirty.

As Jonathan considered his lover's question, he reached up to slowly and thoughtfully stroke the red-gold hairs of his beard and the longer, overhanging whiskers of his droopy moustache. It still carried the musky scent of Randy's body and as he fingered his upper lip, he discovered a few hairs there glued together by a drop of dry cum. He licked at the remnant of that morning's lovemaking and felt his own manhood pulse and stir as the spot dissolved, shocking his tongue with a small burst of the always-longed-for taste of Randy...

"Well, I guess what I'd like to do first off is suck on that big ol' dick of yours for awhile!"

"You'd like that, huh?"

"Hell, yes! Suck on that prick until it was hard as steel, get it all wet and sloppy with my spit."

"Damn!" Randy muttered, reaching to adjust his hardening cock.

"Then, when you was ready, I'd go lay down on my belly and wait for you to kneel between my legs and stick that ramrod up ass and give me a really good screwin'!"

"Umm... " Randy wordlessly acknowledged, thinking of Jonathan's crimson-furred ass, upturned and waiting for him...

"Yeah," Jonathan sighed, "I'd feel your chest fur rubbin' against my back as you fucked me. I'd hear your growls of lust turn into yells when you came, tellin' me how much you loved me as you flooded my insides with your hot, tasty spunk... "

"Soon, buddy... " promised Randy.

His voice was husky with lust. He leaned over to kiss his man. Jonathan met him halfway and their tongues fought to take each other's places for awhile as their horses carried them along.

The sound of a distant gunshot shattered the magic moment. As the sudden noise echoed through the forest, the troublesome mule stopped short in his tracks, which also halted Jonathan's horse, tearing the rider away from his oral pleasures. He turned and glared murderously at the beast.

"Why couldn't that shot have hit you?" Jonathan growled at the mule. The animal erected one of its ears at the man, as if to give him the donkey equivalent of the bird.

"Wait here," Randy said. "I'll go ahead and see what's up."

"The hell you will!" his companion exclaimed, yanking viciously on the mule's tether to get the beast moving again. "C'mon, you hades-spawned bag of worthless bones!"

In about a minute they reached the clearing Randy had spied earlier. The pair spotted a barn and a cabin not far off. Jonathan looked at his lover expectantly.

"The shot sounded as if it came from further away than this," Randy commented.

"Maybe someone's huntin' up in those woods there," pointed Jonathan, indicating a forested ridge that rose above the little valley they found themselves in.

"Could be."

"Is this the place?"

"I think so," Randy said, removing his hat to pull a paper out of it. He unfolded it and read, then looked up. "The landmarks are there," he said, pointing to a huge, roughly cubic rock that stood beside the buildings, and the stream that meandered through the clearing. "That must be, er," Randy began, looking questioningly at the paper, "Lovers Creek."

"Huh! Odd name, eh?" muttered Jonathan.

"Well," his companion sighed, "let's go see if anyone's home."

Jonathan studied the homestead as they approached. The planks in the walls of the spacious barn looked little weathered, as if it had recently been built. The new-split rails in the fence that defined the corral next to it gleamed whitely in the sunlight.

Two mules and a great gray stallion within the enclosure watched the newcomers curiously. A cackling flock of chickens pecked unconcernedly at the ground around the larger animals' legs, deftly avoiding being crushed when the stallion moved his piepan sized hooves. The sounds the men made as they rode closer coaxed another horse to step out of the barn and join his companions.

The men swung down from their mounts and hitched them to the new corral fence. The unseasoned wood still oozed sticky sap in a few spots. The side of the cabin facing them presented a blank wall of logs, so they walked around the corner. A small porch stood before a door and Randy stepped up to it and knocked.

"Just a minute!" called a voice from inside.

The door opened and a big man with long, dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail stood before them. His impressive beard cascaded halfway down his chest in dark waves. He looked to be about the same age as Randy and Jonathan, in his late twenties.

With all that fur covering his face, his eyes were practically the only part of him that could show expression. The bright orbs held a calm, expectant look. As well as a gleam of something else which Jonathan and Randy had seen often before in their travels, most recently in the town of False Pass. A frank appraisal of their handsomeness that told them they might be dealing with another man like themselves. Jonathan recalled the name of the nearby creek and wondered.

"William Dern?" Randy asked.

"That's me," the man in the doorway smiled. A set of white, even teeth showed abruptly through the brown cloud of his beard. "But my friends call me Will."

"I'm Randolph Shifflet, from the land office in Douglas City. You can call me Randy."

"Yeah, I was expectin' somebody to come and check on the survey lines of our property claim."

"Yes, that's why I'm here. This is my par... er.. assistant, Jonathan Taverner."

"Glad to meet you both. Please come on in."

As Will stood aside to let them in, he studied the two men. Randy was a solidly built man, about six foot, with a ruggedly handsome, Germanic face. His hair and beard were black as coal, as were the stray tufts of chest hair that poked over the unbuttoned top of his shirt and the finer hairs that covered his hands to the second knuckle, thickening as they disappeared under the cuffs of his greatcoat.

The other man, Jonathan, was about the same height, but had a slimmer build. Despite that, he appeared to be every bit as hard and strong as his companion. His Scotch-Irish heritage showed in his long, red-gold hair, worn in a ponytail. Though his beard was trimmed like Randy's, he had left his moustache unclipped. It spilled thickly from his upper lip like a shower of ruddy gold, hiding his mouth.

"We heard a shot a little while ago," commented Jonathan.

"Oh, that was probably my pardner. He went out huntin'."

Jonathan gave Randy a surreptitious nudge when he heard that.

"Have a seat at the table," Will said, waving them towards a corner of the building dominated by a spacious window. "I'll just be a moment findin' the land papers."

"One bed for two men," Jonathan pointed out in a low voice as they sat.

"Yeah. But did you see what Will's wearin' around his neck?" Randy whispered back.

"No."

"It's that same symbol we saw by the trail earlier, the sign of the heron!"

"You mean those Injun fellers we heard about, the ones who like the same things we do?"

"Yeah! I... "

"Here we go," said Will, plunking a parcel of papers down on the table and interrupting Randy's response.

Randy cautioned his partner with a barely perceptible nod of his head and reached for the bundle. As he and Will began to go over the claim forms, making sure everything was in order, Jonathan got a good look at Will from where he sat, to the side of the two men. There, dangling under his dark brown beard, was the object Randy had referred to.

It appeared to be an ordinary pebble, worn smooth by the action of running water. It had been pierced and strung on a cord of rawhide encircling Will's neck. On the stone, a strange, curling glyph had been carved. It was a symbol Jonathan and his partner had heard a lot about.

Jonathan remembered the time when he and Randy had passed through Maury City some time previously. They had heard many tall tales about that sign whispered respectfully by the backwoodsmen, cowboys and miners they had met in a saloon called The Mineshaft. And one, a soldier named Hiram stationed at the nearby fort, had dipped his finger in his drink and surreptitiously drawn that symbol on the counter of the bar for them to see: the sign of the heron.

It was said to be the recognition sign among an elusive band of men, heron men, who lived according to their true, inner natures, dwelling deep in the wooded fastness of the Southern Cascades. Near the base of a great mountain that no one could put a name to was a cave of wonders, where an old Indian, the chief and shaman of the tribe, lived, or so it was said. Jonathan could see that Will wore that same symbol and wondered if half of what he had heard about the mysterious tribe could possibly be true.

"Well," Randy said at last as he looked up at Will, "everything appears to be in order."

"Good."

"I guess we can begin puttin' down surveyin' markers whenever you're ready. I suggest we begin on the southern boundary, here," Randy said, turning to a map and drawing his finger along a ridge Will knew was the watershed between Heron Creek and the stream that flowed past his home, the one he had named Lovers Creek.

"Any particular reason for that?"

"Well, there are no other claims to the east or north. And there's a smaller one to the southwest, along Lemolo Lake, here," he indicated, "that we were goin' to get to next, but a bigger claim has been put in on the lands to the south of yours."

"Really?" Will sounded surprised. "Do you happen to know who claimed it?"

"Lemme see... " Randy leafed through the small volume of land claims he carried. "Oh yeah, here it is: 'drainage of the tributary of the Umpqua River commonly known as Heron Creek'," he read, "'claim registered Sept. 30, 1868 by Martin Porter'."

"Martin Porter?!" Will muttered half to himself. "Who the heck is he?"

"Uh, you okay, Will?"

"I just don't believe it," he went on. Then, becoming aware of the puzzled looks he was getting from his visitors, he added: "You'll have to excuse me. I was under the impression that some friends of mine were goin' to claim that land. Martin Porter isn't one of them."

"Well, I'm afraid they're too late. But if this Porter fellow doesn't come up with the rest of the price of that parcel before next September, your friends will have another chance to claim. It's a slim chance, I'll admit, but at least your claim is unaffected."

"Yeah," Will said, not sounding very reassured. "Well, lemme leave a note for my pardner and we can go."

Luke Gibbe moaned and tossed in his sleep. His rest was broken, as it had been with regular frequency lately, by nightmares. One in particular kept recurring, as it did now.

The horse. Again Luke looked on helplessly and with a deep sense of horror and loss as it galloped away from him, away into an empty desert landscape. Bound by ropes to its saddle was a burden at once precious to him, but at the same time terrible to look at, as the horse carried it off, out of his life, forever...

"Ahh!" he exclaimed, waking up.

The morning sun was shining almost directly into Luke's room. The young man noted it in alarm. He rolled out of bed and started to dress in a hurry. Luke had suddenly remembered that he was supposed to go into town that day with the foreman, Dick Horst.

Luke was looking forward to the trip to Steens Station, because he hoped he could find a man who ran a certain store there, a fellow by the name of Judd. He had overheard rumors about the man, that he had the same nature as Luke. The youth hoped the stories were true and that Judd could be trusted. He needed help and knew of no one else to turn to.

In his hurry, Luke forgot about the papers lying haphazardly on his desk. The ones he had been doodling on, absent-mindedly, while thinking of what he knew about a beautiful Native American myth, one Luke had reason to believe was not quite as legendary as most others thought. The papers were covered with strange markings: curling glyphs that appeared to be the stylized head of a bird...

"Hello, Don."

The clerk looked up from the task he was engaged in, to see a familiar, smiling face in the Bank of Grant. The man's dark brown hair and beard were short and stray tufts of dark chest hair peeked out from under the collar of his work shirt. The sleeves had been rolled up, revealing an impressive and hairy set of arms. The rest of his muscular body was of medium height and his movements suggested a strong, calm self-assurance.

"Hiram," Don smiled back. "What brings you here?"

"Business and pleasure," he answered with a wink. "I have a deposit to make."

"I'd be happy to take care of any deposits you'd care to make with me!" Don winked back.

"And," Hiram began with a low chuckle, "I wanted to remind you that Lars and I expect you to come to dinner with us tonight. We promised Jeff you wouldn't be lonesome while he was gone."

"I wish I could've gone with him, but at least one of us has to make a living."

"Money's not everything," Hiram said in unconscious irony as he pushed a number of gold and silver coins under the grille that separated the men. "Falling Star will be expectin' you to visit him this year too, you know."

"Yes, I know," Don said, remembering the invitation he and Don had both received the previous autumn.

"You're not afraid, are you?" asked Hiram gently.

"No, it's just, well... how often does someone come along and offer to fulfill your secret fantasies? The idea of life with a community of men who'll share everything they have, and their love, with you, well, it still seems a little too good to be true."

"You can believe it, Don. It's real. I've seen it," Hiram reassured his friend.

"I'll go," affirmed Don. "Don't worry, I won't let a few doubts stop me from seeing it for myself."

In the valley of the heron itself, others were also planning journeys. Just then, under the clear morning sky, two of them were ready to get underway. And they began, as many travelers often do, by saying their farewells.

"G'bye, Eric."

Zeb Alden smiled down at his lover from his mount, a fine chestnut mare, borrowed from the small herd they tended. Eric Vaal sighed and looked away from Zeb, up the trail that led to the cave of mysteries. Some distance away from where they stood in the morning sunlight, Eric could see a white man named Jeff Simms waiting for Zeb astride a black horse.

Jeff was on a medicine journey, a quest to see the great Elxa shaman, Falling Star. The trail he had followed from Roman Rock paralleled Heron Creek and passed by the settlement founded the previous year. By then the eight men who lived there had agreed to use the name their Elxa brethren had already bestowed on their little community: Heron Ranch.

It was quite obvious that Zeb was more than taken with the handsome traveler, but Eric could not blame him for it. He had to admit he found Jeff desirable also, if only to himself. Because of that perhaps, Zeb had volunteered to guide Jeff the rest of the way to the cave of mysteries. Eric looked back into his lover's blue eyes.

"Take care of yourself," he breathed, "and... be sure to come back to me."

Zeb leaned down from his saddle. One hand came around to the back of Eric's head, fingers riffling through the red hair which Eric was allowing to grow long in the tribal fashion. Eric could feel the strength in that hand as Zeb pressed his lips to Eric's in a long and deeply satisfying kiss, before releasing his lover to answer.

"Of course," he rasped, a husky whisper that flowed into a song:

You ask me to return, but what choice have I?

You have my heart, the center of my being!

I must return, or else lose my life and all its meaning...

"Zeb... " Eric managed, quite moved by the song.

He began to say more, but suddenly thought better of speaking. Instead Eric nodded, his eyes grave as he stepped back. Zeb spurred his horse up the trail as his lover watched. Soon Zeb and Jeff were lost amid the trees that grew along Heron Creek.

Eric was turning to head back to the cabin he shared with Zeb when he caught sight of one of his neighbors, Hun Tzu. He was practicing the art he had mastered in China, geomancy, reading the invisible powers of nature for the benefit of man. He manipulated his lo-pan, the ivory instrument that helped him sense those primal forces, and was following the course it indicated, into the surrounding woods.

His curiosity aroused, Eric followed. He moved silently, using the hunting skills he had been taught by the Indian heron men. He watched as Hun Tzu meandered through the forest, often pausing before certain trees. As if in a sort of aethereal connect-the-dots game the lo-pan seemed to be leading the man from one tree to another and then another, taking him towards an unknown destination.

At last, when he reached the bole of an enormous oak, the geomancer stopped and did not go on to another tree. It seemed to Eric that Hun Tzu's expression reflected mild disappointment, as if he had expected to end up someplace else. In any case, he set the lo-pan down carefully and began to scrape off a little of the oak's bark. Eric could see marks that showed where Hun Tzu had taken another such sample earlier.

Eric was a little taken aback by what happened next: Hun Tzu's head turned towards where he had concealed himself and beckoned. Apparently the man had known he was being shadowed the entire time. A bit chagrined, Eric approached his friend, feeling less sure about his stalking abilities.

"I didn't mean to spy on you," he apologized. "I was just curious to see what you were up to... "

"I am glad you are here, my friend. You can be the first to share my discovery."

"Really? What have you found?"

"It would take too long to explain." Hun Tzu said, rolling a bit of the oak's dark bark between his fingers to produce a course powder. "I will show you."

Hun Tzu shrugged his shoulders and allowed the buckskin vest he wore to slip off and fall to the ground. Now his only garment was a breechclout ornamented by a beaded design and Eric could see where his friend had anointed himself earlier with the dark grit. An odd, vaguely geometric design lay on the tawny skin over the geomancer's heart and Eric noticed the faint image of another sign on his forehead for the first time.

Eric took off his shirt and allowed Hun Tzu to draw the same glyphs on him. Hun Tzu finishing by dusting the palms of Eric's hands with the woody substance. He stepped back and eyed his handiwork, smacking the remnants of the powdered bark off his hands.

"There. The marks only have to be made once, and the effect ought to be permanent."

"What effect?"

"I will show you. Place your hands on the oak... Like this... "

Eric did as he was instructed. To his great surprise, the tree did not feel rough and cold, but warm and strangely yielding. The man's fingers seemed to slip into an unseen crack in the tree's substance, one that widened as he pushed deeper into it.

Eric had the distinct impression of a door opening before him. An oddly dreamlike calm appeared, to surround and settle over him, blocking out any objections his rational mind might have had as he stepped through the aperture that could not logically have materialized before him. There was a brief moment of darkness and then the light returned. Though it was dimmer, Eric could see again.

He found himself standing in a short tunnel. The air was rich with the smell of damp, clean earth. Roots hung from the ceiling and snaked down the walls. Small hollow smacks sounded, the slow, even rhythm of water dripping onto stone somewhere nearby.

The light Eric saw all this by was slanting in through an opening only a few steps from where he stood. Eric turned around to see how he had gotten there and faced an apparent dead end. The obstruction was dark brown, rugged and caked with clumps of moist black earth shot through with lacey networks of tiny white rootlets. It took a moment or two for him to realize that it was the underground base of another huge tree.

Eric started to reach out to touch the massive sub-trunk. But before his fingers could make contact, a point of light glimmered in its midst. Spreading out from there like a ripple in a pond, an area the size of an average doorway began to waver and warp and sparkle in a prefulgent fashion, like the surface of a bowl of some opaque liquid being agitated in sunlight. Before the man's astonished eyes the ebulliently coruscating substance parted and Hun Tzu stepped into the tunnel with him.

"What the... " Eric managed, losing a bit of the dreamlike calm that still clung to his perceptions as the wide bole gave one last effulgent shimmer and returned to solidity, "How... "

"Come," Hun Tzu whispered, taking Eric's hand. "Come and see, my brother. Then I will explain... "

They stepped to the tunnel's mouth and paused there. The men looked out upon the slope of a gentle hill, covered with tall grass, wildflowers and a few young saplings whose leaves fluttered lazily in the gentle breeze. Above them towered the tree whose sub-trunk Eric had already seen. As he glanced up at its viridescent, overshadowing magnificence he felt sure it was the largest and most magnificent oak he had ever seen.

Away down the hill and beyond, an undulating green forest arose in an exuberant green mass and stretched off to the horizon. At first, all Eric could do as he gazed at the vista was to feel its beauty as an almost physical force, something that reached out to him, personally. It felt like a welcome, an invitation, and something so much more...

How long he stood there like that he did not know. But slowly, as he scanned the horizon and noted distant, unfamiliar landmarks, he wondered where on Earth Hun Tzu had taken him. Then Eric looked up at the clear sky and realized there was something very different about that place, making him wonder if they were still on Earth.

The sky was the deep, deep blue of lapis lazuli, almost too blue, too... too perfect. On the horizon, a few puffy clouds broke the unblemished expanse of azure. The sun that scintillated so gloriously in that ideal sky had its own peculiarities as well.

It took a moment or two before Eric realized that the light of this sun did not dazzle or hurt his eyes, even when he looked right at it. This unnatural phenomenon was matched by the definitely more golden tint of that prefulgent daystar, far more splendid than the sun Eric knew. Eric moved his lips and tongue to speak, but no sound came. He was about to try again when Hun Tzu turned to kiss him gently.

It had been a year since Eric had arrived in the valley of the heron, to make his home among the gentle men who dwelt there, the ancient Elxa tribe. And in that time he had followed the Way of the Heron and made love to many of its members, his spirit brothers, Hun Tzu among them. But never had a kiss carried so much feeling and provoked such emotions in him, not even ones bestowed by his lover, Zeb. It was as if the world around him were kissing him, channeling its love like an elemental force through Hun Tzu's lips.

Hun Tzu took his friend's hand and Eric experienced another empathic flash. It was as if the could feel what a tropical island might feel when its sandy shores are caressed by a warm ocean wave. Absorbed in these new sensations, he allowed himself to be guided by his heron brother along a faint path that wound upwards and past the great oak.

The track ended at a small campsite, perched near the edge of an outcrop of weathered, coarse grained marble, shot through with fissures of clear quartz. The grass around its edges grew through a layer of loose crystals that glittered surrealistically in the sun's light, cracked facets glinting like broken and scattered bits of rainbow. Eric glanced at the natural prisms and thought he saw new colors, more than the seven he was used to, and felt wonder compete with confusion before he was pulled down onto a brilliantly violet blanket laid out before a lean-to. Hun Tzu gestured at the view the site afforded them, pulling Eric's attention away from the slightly mindbending riot of alien color.

As Eric looked out at the verdant forests, Hun Tzu's fingertips lightly traced the odd design he had drawn on his friend's chest. More empathy touched Eric's senses. This time the sensation was that of a trumpetflower, trembling before the intimate blur of a hummingbird's wings, its velvet interior stroked tentatively by a feathery tongue...

"What sort of a place is this?" Eric breathed, finding his tongue at last. "I... I seem to be able to feel what it feels, in myself, whenever you touch me."

"Think back to the first Heart Call ritual we held last year," Hun Tzu murmured, "and think too of the stories we have heard, from our heron brother, Il-Xochitl... "

'Flower-in-autumn... Bill Axford... ' the aliases of one of his fellow heron men and neighbor at Heron Ranch floated pleasantly through Eric's mind.

" ...of the spirit land he visited in his dreams. And recall the things Falling Star has said of that realm, that it is a real place where the spirits who guide our tribe dwell, along with the spirits of our brothers who no longer have physical bodies."

"Yes, I remember. I thought we could only visit it in medicine dreams. Are we in that place now?"

"Yes," the geomancer nodded. "I believe so."

"You're not sure?"

"No, because I have not seen anyone else here. Of course, this is only the third time I have entered it. The first time I found this natural campsite, and the second time I brought these items to make it a comfortable place to stay, a base from which I hope to go forth from to explore this world.

"Like the Earth, this world is also alive," Hun Tzu went on. "But this world projects its living presence much more forcefully. Here, no one can ignore the beat of its vital heart or fail to know the effects their actions have on it, as so many do on Earth, to its ruin."

Hun Tzu paused for a moment to look away and take a breath. Eric did the same and realized there was even something in the air of that place that was glad to be breathed in by him, happy to become a part of him. It seemed to course through his veins like some sort of spiritual oxygen, nourishing and quickening his soul as his companion spoke again.

"This place is quite close to the Earth, so close that many openings naturally exist between them. The energy currents that run beneath the surface of the Earth have their counterparts here and sometimes they cross between the dimensions. Where such a current connects two very old trees in both realms, a portal is created. We passed through such a one when we came here."

"And the marks on my skin?"

"A key, put simply. You need it for the first crossing over, but from now on the 'door' will always be unlocked for you."

"The portal you found, do you think there are others?"

"Yes. I was looking for another when you followed me. But I have not found any more yet. However, we might not have to go in search of them. I believe more openings like the one we came through can be made, almost anywhere we like."

"Really? How?"

"Remember how Falling Star was able to cause the power spot at Roman Rock to move during the Heart Call? It is the same principal, or so I hope, moving such spots or opening new ones, to or in certain places. My guess is that it will be easiest to create new gates through large, old trees, after positioning a power spot beneath them. The tree's life force, intersecting an upwelling flow of Earth energy, will create a potential doorway between it and another large tree growing here, over a similar upwelling of the energies that flow beneath the surface of this world."

"Wait. If this is the spirit world, maybe the inhabitants won't want strangers barging in... "

Even as the words left his lips, Eric felt their wrongness. Everything around him emanated welcome and joy at his presence there. Anyone who lived there would have to feel the same. Hun Tzu looked into his friend's eyes and knew he understood that before he went on.

"I am sure there are others here. I have not seen them, but I have felt their presence. Can you?"

Eric looked away to the far horizon for a few moments. Something touched him in an indistinct way, one he found hard describe, but he did feel the presence of others. Eric turned back to Hun Tzu and nodded. The geomancer went on.

"I have a theory about them too, but now is not the time to go into that... "

Hun Tzu stood and undid the cord of his breechclout. Eric watched as the scrap of beaded deerskin fell, leaving the man's tawny nakedness to glow like old satin under the golden sun's light. As he sat back down, Eric noted the way his cock lay heavily against one thigh, plump with warmth and promise, and felt his own body responding to the sight.

"You feel how this world speaks to us? How it welcomes us? It is glad because it can experience human emotion through us, our love, our reactions to its natural beauty, while through our senses, we can be one with it, feel the life, the power of an entire world... "

Eric leaned forward, silencing his companion with a kiss, wanting to feel what his companion spoke of. He felt Hun Tzu's fingers busily unbuttoning his pants, his only garment, pushing them down and off. The pair embraced and kissed and rolled, reveling in the touch of skin to skin, until Eric found himself looking down at Hun Tzu's back, the gentle curve of his lean buttocks, and conscious thought yielded to primal desire. Slowly he lowered his face into the finely haired cleft, tongue reaching out...

...and lapped clear water from a fern-lined mountain stream, coursing in a vee of ancient rock...

...found the hidden cracks in the warm, tawny earth, felt their weathered contours and volcanic heat and seismic tremblings...

...lowered himself slowly and lovingly into a cavern of fire, moaning with pleasure, listening to the echoing sighs that answered his...

...liquid fire spurting, spurting, making the heat greater, stoking the subterranean flames...

...an earthquake of shifting continental bodies, tectonic shocks as a tsunami-tongue overtopped an active volcano...

...and drew forth a river of molten salt-opal, a lava flow swallowed by a bottomless sea...

...thus Eric made symbolic love to the new land, an entire world seemingly made for the practice of the Way of the Heron, reflected for him in the body of Hun Tzu.

"Heron world... " Eric murmured the words, full of thanks and wonder, to the perfect blue sky and mild golden sun and friendly verdant blades of grass rustling soft and cool around and under the men's naked, relaxed, sweat-streaked bodies.

Lou Tyrone trudged stoically through the almost hip-deep, sticky snow, which was melting rapidly in the mild spring weather. He was following the trail being broken by his companion. They had dismounted to lead their horses up a short, steep incline that ended in a wide vee, a cleft in a massive ridge of solid, lichen-encrusted basalt, shattered by some primordial seismic event aeons ago. Passing through the hundred foot or so wide gap, he saw they had reached the head of the pass.

He could not help but pause and look out admiringly on the new vista that opened up ahead of him. It was the first time Lou had been there, guided through a nameless pass long known to the Elxa, but to few others. Lou was mildly surprised to see how the land fell away so easily from that point. It melded into wooded foothills covered by conifer forests that showed little of the rugged corrugations that marked the land behind him. And the further east his eyes ranged, the flatter and more sparsely wooded the land became as it sloped downward into semiarid grasslands.

Lou knew that less than a day's ride to the eastward lay the town of Steens Station, where he and his fellow heron man would meet the men Falling Star was expecting and escort them back to the cave of mysteries. Lou understood the once sleepy town was now the railhead of a line that was steadily pushing its way westward across the southern tier of Oregon. His horse snorted, alerting Lou to the fact that his companion was not waiting for them.

"C'mon, Ol' Joe," he whispered to his mount, tugging gently on the reins, as he started walking again.

Jonathan straightened up and wiped his brow with a bright crimson bandanna. He had just pounded another iron rod into the rocky earth along a ridge on the southern boundary of the land he was surveying. Randy knelt to thread a wire with a numbered metal tag through the hole in the rod.

Jonathan looked off to the south, where the grassy land sloped easily away. Somewhere in that direction lay a fledgling ranch Will had told them about, where his nephew lived. Jonathan stole a quick look over at Will, who was busy writing something in a notebook he carried. Jonathan took the opportunity to bend down and whisper to his lover.

"Randy?"

"What?" he responded in a normal voice.

"Keep your voice down!" Jonathan warned, glancing at Will again. He had not seemed to notice their exchange.

"Why?"

"Ain't you gonna ask him?"

"Ask who what?"

"Will! About the heron men!"

"No."

"Then I will."

"Not now, Jonathan!"

"Why?"

"We're supposed to be workin'!" Randy growled as he gave the tag one last twist and stood up.

"We can work and talk at the same time!" Jonathan growled back.

"What's goin' on?" asked Will. "You guys sound like you're fightin' over something."

"We are," replied Jonathan as he faced Will. "Over you!"

"Huh?"

"I want to ask you something and Randy seems to think it's none of our business."

"Well ask me and I'll tell you if it is or not." Will grinned in evident amusement.

"It's about that pendant you're wearin'!" Though he did not mean it that way, Jonathan pointed at the Elxa glyphstone Will wore in an manner that seemed accusatory. "It has something to do with the heron men, doesn't it?"

"Well!" Will breathed as he reached up to finger the smooth stone, his levity suddenly gone. "That's quite a question."

"You don't have to answer." Randy interjected, exchanging irate glares with Jonathan.

"May I ask why you want to know?"

Jonathan opened his mouth to answer Will and stopped. He suddenly realized that the heron men might have enemies who would be as pleased to trouble them as he and Randy had been troubled over the years, by narrow-minded busybodies who could not stomach the thought of two men living free and doing what they felt, as he and his lover did. And here was a whole tribe of such men. What a provocation the heron men would be to the straight-laced, self-appointed 'protectors' of society, if they found out about them!

Will saw the change in Jonathan's expression and smiled. He stepped closer to the two men and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. Then, looking from Randy to Jonathan, he spoke, very quietly.

"Don't worry. It's natural for you to be curious... about your brothers... "

"What? We're not... I mean we are... I mean... " floundered Jonathan.

"What he means," Randy sighed as he threw an arm around Jonathan, "is that we're lovers. But we're not heron men."

"Are you so sure?" Will asked with a twinkle in his eye. He was remembering medicine dreams he had experienced recently, in which a former heron man named Issapoma had come to Will and told him the two surveyors coming to his land were being led to join their brothers in the valley of the heron. "I believe you have been guided here by the spirits that protect us and this land."

"Spirits?" laughed Jonathan. "I ain't had a drink in days!"

"Please excuse him," Randy sighed contritely. "Sometimes I think he was dropped on his head when he was a baby! But seriously, we would like to learn more about the heron men, if you're willin' to discuss it."

"Sure," began Will. "Ask me anything you want."

The constant jarring movement beneath the man was an uneven rhythm from far, far away. Too far away for his dazed senses to comprehend. But the unceasing motion was a reality impossible to escape, something to remind him that, against all expectations, he was still alive.

He opened his eyes and looked uncomprehendingly up, through the branches of sugar pines and cedars. They were moving... no, he was moving, on an endless journey, the same one he had been on forever, or so it felt. His eyes closed and other images appeared.

Memories flickered dimly in his fevered brain. Disjointed images that hurt more than the wounds that covered his back. Though crusted over with blackened gore they still weeped blood through cracks, kept from closing by the incessant rocking of his body.

He had long since lost track of time, so he could not put the things he remembered in context. Did they happen days ago? Years ago?

Above all else, memories of pain. Quick, stinging pain, hitting his flesh with the speed of a striking rattlesnake. Only an instant of touch, but it carried a world of blinding agony.

And he had felt that touch more times than he could remember, until it had brought him to death's door. He could still hear the sounds that had accompanied the torment: the cruel, mocking laugh of a man. And in the background, the muffled sobs of bitter sorrow from another person, somewhere out of his range of sight...

Another image, earlier in time it seemed, for he was strong and vital then, feeling good as he smiled down at a face. It was a youthful face, not that of a boy, but of one who was on the brink of manhood. Short, light brown hair, the first traces of a moustache clinging to the upper lip and clear blue eyes, filled with emotion.

'Luke... '

The name came from somewhere out of his confused thoughts. It carried a sweetness with it that was satisfying beyond words. An answer, from that young man followed.

'Frank... '

He remembered.

Frank Lusk's mind emerged from the chaos it was sunk in. He tried to move, but the bonds that lashed him to his moving horse were still secure. He tried to speak, to call out for help. The cry died in his parched, swollen throat.

Frank could not cling to reality for long. He tried to concentrate on Luke, savoring the good memories as long as he could. But inevitably the continuous, world-shaking rhythm of his horse's progress reasserted itself, along with the pain it produced, submerging the injured cowboy again into a vague semiconsciousness, leaving him floating in a pain filled limbo, somewhere between life and death.

Tolatil sat in a remote corner of the rock-pocked field that lay just outside the cave of mysteries. A small fire flickered before him, into which he crumbled a dried plant. It was an orange starflower, a plant the heron men had long ago learned could facilitate visions. The man relaxed and breathed in the heavy, yellowish, sweet smelling smoke that rose from the flames.

Let the flower of my heart open, Let the chief of my guides come...

He is coming, my mighty brother, the Heron Spirit, in all his glory...

I will raise my head, I will exalt my spirit, I will see with new eyes, I will find what I seek...

His murmured prayer called to the spirits of his tribe, asking for their guidance on his intended journey. As Falling Star had suggested, Tolatil sought a vision in the hopes of divining his future lovelife. A sudden piercing cry caught his attention, cutting through the entrancing smoke and whispered words.

Looking upward, Tolatil saw the red tailed hawk that had come to nest near the cave of mysteries. The bird looked back at the human and an amazing thing happened. To Tolatil, it was as if he were seeing through the bird's eyes, but the images that came to him did not seem to be connected to his vision quest.

As if he were flying like a bird, Tolatil saw the valley of the heron spread out and passing by beneath him. He seemed to be moving quickly away from the cave of mysteries, following the course of Heron Creek to the westward. But Tolatil soon realized that something was wrong.

Wherever Tolatil expected to see his brother heron men, his eyes found nothing. The homes and settlements, forests and animals remained, but no living trace of his tribe seemed to remain on the land. It was devoid of human life. The more Tolatil searched and failed to find anyone, the more unnerving his vision became.

But the utmost peak of discomfort came when Tolatil saw a group of vile beasts invade the valley of the heron from the east. A pack of slavering, orange-brown furred things swarmed down Heron Creek, ranging at will over the lands of the Elxa. The native stared at the intruders in shock.

"Hyaenas..." he cried, naming the representations of evil spirits, ones implacably hostile to the Way of the Heron.

At once, the vision was cut short. Tolatil gasped as he opened his own eyes, only to find himself sitting before a smouldering heap of hot ashes. He blinked and noticed the shadows around him had shifted. Though it seemed to Tolatil's mind that less than a minute had passed, it appeared that his body had sat an hour or more beside the fire. The Elxa brave rose at once to go and find Falling Star, hoping the heron shaman would have an explanation for this strange and unsettling spirit vision.

Robert Vaughn stopped before his office and swung off his horse. He smiled at the familiar pinto that was hitched to the same post Robert used. The Jefe's boots pounded hollowly on the plank sidewalk as he stepped to the door and went in.

Chris was seated behind the desk, his boots propped up on it. His hat was pulled low, over his eyes, and at first Robert thought he was asleep. Then the black-haired cowboy spoke, his voice slightly muffled by the dark Stetson.

"It's about time you got back."

"It took longer than I thought, pard." Robert said, reaching out to pull Chris's hat back so he could see his lover's face.

"How'd it go?" Chris managed to ask before the Jefe's lips found his in a long, sweet kiss.

"Not good, I'm afraid," sighed Robert, after he drew back from savoring Chris's taste.

"What do you mean?"

"The land office at Port Bolon says someone took an option out on the entire watershed of Heron Creek at the beginning of last fall."

"Who?" Chris asked in astonishment as he sat up.

"A man by the name of John Porter. He's a lawyer out of Douglas City."

"What would a lawyer want with the valley of the heron?"

"A good question. And one that ordinarily wouldn't be anyone's business. Luckily for us, my badge gave me the authority to nose around Douglas City long enough to find out that Mr. Porter is actin' as an agent for one of his clients."

"Who?"

The sheriff's voice was grim as he answered.

"A cattle baron by the name of Horace Gibbe. By all accounts, a very bad hombre." Robert shook his head. "This is serious trouble, pard."

For Jeff and Zeb time passed quickly in travel, but they were in no hurry to reach the cave of mysteries. Their horses would easily bring them to that sacred place before sundown. In the warmest hour of the day they broke their journey, spreading a blanket out in the sunlight. They made love again and afterward cuddled, speaking softly.

"Zeb?"

"Yes?"

"Is it true your tribal name is Xonka-ra? Mountain-ram-in-the-sun?"

"Yes, I told you that."

"Then I think I dreamt of you, before we met."

"Really?"

"While I was at Roman Rock, I had a strange dream. I saw a mountain sheep, a ram, but its wool was the color of autumn wheat, and that puzzled me, until now." Jeff murmured, running his fingers through Zeb's thick chest fur, marvelling at how it fairly glowed golden brown in the sunlight. "Tlaccotan tried to help me interpret it, guidin' me through an Elxa ritual, but it didn't give me any answers. I see why now. I was goin' to find the meanin' when I met you."

"Not so long ago I might have called that a coincidence," returned Zeb, his hands stroking the body pressed against him. "But I've learned that in the valley of the heron, dreams have a reality all their own, and we have to pay attention to them."

"Zeb... " Jeff began. But then he paused, fell silent, and began to speak again, softly.

My dream guided me to you, just as you now guide me to your chief...

Guiding me through high mountains, proud like my dream image, challenging the sun...

"Jeff, your song was... "

"Shhhuuu, my brother," Jeff cooed, resting his head on his companion's muscular belly, "Be still, be still. I see a part of you that needs my attention."

Jeff's breath as he spoke was a torrid rasp across rigid flesh. Zeb shuddered, feeling eager lips and a knowing tongue follow hotly where words had foregone. And he wondered at the dream Jeff had experienced, before the familiar delicious liquid suctioning rhythm surrounding his cock dragged him helplessly away to the numinous realm of no-thought-and-all-feeling...

...to the heights of a mountain fastness...

...the edge of a dizzying precipice...

...where he reached out, into blue, vast space...

...striving to touch the sun...

...the astonishing, ecstatic instant of contact...

...the pounding, pulsing rush of love flowing from him into eternity...

...and the endless fall into a deep, sweet abyss...

Somewhere in the wilderness lying between the arms of the Umpqua and the Clearwater, Goody Ormonde had stopped to rest. He had found an unusual rock formation that formed a rough squarish wall, sheltering a small grassy clearing. Outside of it, a thick, shady forest of hemlocks, sugar pines and Douglas firs pressed hard up against the ramparts of the natural fortress like a besieging army.

A small fire burned before Goody, its smoke rising as a bluish streamer, up into the overhanging branches of the trees that shadowed his refuge. Sitting with his back against one massive boulder, Goody luxuriated in the solitude of the deep woods. He listened to the small, distant noises made by the other living beings in the forest.

Goody relaxed, letting the fatigue of miles of walking abate. The heron man had traveled quite a distance already that day and it felt very good to rest, feeling the small aches in his legs and back settling down. Goody closed his eyes, more than content.

A vague sensation of movement, of transit, of being someplace else, made him open them again. Goody saw his clothing was gone before his gaze lifted to regard another naked man who stood nearby, all without surprise or wonder, though both reactions seemed to be warranted. For the newcomer's skin was green, the hairs that grew across his body were fine blades of grass and his hair was a mass of vines, studded with tiny ivy leaves, a living, green mane that spilled thickly across his shoulders and cascaded down his back.

The Green God looked at Woody with liquid eyes. They gleamed with primal, verdant power, a reflection of the life force of all living things in the valley of the heron, inviting silently. Seeing the man's positive response, the way his cock stirred and began to rise, the godling gestured easily with one hand and the ground around them burst forth in a riot of wildflowers. Goody looked about himself in wonder as the Green God knelt to touch the heron man. Scarcely wondering how this could be happening, Goody returned the gentle caress, falling into a coupling that left the human amazed and exhausted.

Rising on one elbow, the godling looked away from where they lay in the afterglow of lovemaking. Curiosity drove Goody to do the same. Oddly, it seemed as if his eyes could make out distant things clearly, as if they were quite close.

Goody could see a youngster, scarcely more than a boy, walking through the wilderness somewhere to the north. Surrounding him like a cloud was a flurry of filmy, indistinct entities, invisible to the traveler, moving around him in erratic orbits. Some appeared to be cone shaped, others spherical or like small multisided objects one might find in a book of geometry. Several looked like delicate veils blown about by the wind, constantly rippling and curling as they moved. A couple had more complex, organic forms; if they represented species of animals, then they were ones Goody had never seen before. It was obvious that these entities were busy clearing the lad's path of danger as he trekked along.

Goody watched as the adolescent came to the north bank of the Umpqua. He stripped and swam across, holding his clothes above the water as he did so. His unseen protectors swirled about his nakedness exuberantly as he redonned his clothing and resumed his southward journey.

Somehow, Goody knew the lad's companions were protective spirits, of the same type allied with the heron men, attracted to and sustained by the amatory energies raised by the man-loving men of the Elxa tribe whenever they coupled. Their attention to the youth meant he had the same nature as Goody. The heron man watched as the young traveler encountered a broad trail, running roughly east and west.

Goody knew it was the new wagon road that ran between False Pass and the homesteads of some heron men that lay along the eastern shore of Lemolo Lake, skirting the south bank of the Umpqua at that particular point. The lad paused to peer suspiciously both ways down the trail, making sure no one was in sight before he crossed it and plunged southward into the forest. Apparently, the teenaged boy wanted to avoid being seen.

Goody realized that the stripling was being guided towards his camp, to him, by the spirits who accompanied him. The man looked to the Green God, but the Elxa divinity continued to silently watch the approach of the juvenile traveler. Goody spoke at last, his voice sounding too loud amid the solitude of the surrounding forest.

"Do you want me to take care of him?"

Even as he spoke, Goody felt as if he had answered his own question. Who else but he was there in that wilderness to meet up with the lad? But the Green God did answer, nodding his head gravely. The movement caused the vine-hairs of his head to rustle noisily.

"Then I ought to stay here and wait," he added. The godling nodded again and the rustling grew louder.

"But what if... "

Everything changed in an instant. Goody opened his eyes and realized his medicine dream was over. The rustling sounds he had been hearing were coming from a pair of frisky squirrels nearby, chasing each other among the rocks and over the dry forest litter that covered them.

But, as if to warn the heron man that what he had experienced was not just a fantasy, a change had occurred in the clearing. Goody stared in dismay at the miraculous clump of starflowers close to his head. They had not been there when he lay down. The white blossoms seemed to glow softly in the shade of the trees as they filled the surrounding air with their sweet scent. Goody got up and began to do little things to make his camp more comfortable, as he had decided to stay there and wait for what the Elxa godling had revealed to him.

The afternoon shadows were inching across the small mountain valley when three riders returned to the cabin set in its midst. Will took a deep breath and smacked his lips. Jonathan and Randy caught the rich scent on the wind too. Someone was cooking.

"I guess my pardner had some good luck huntin' today. Looks like we'll eat well."

"And am I hungry!" Randy avowed.

Dismounting before the corral, Will opened the gate for them to lead in their horses and mule. The men stowed the saddles inside the barn. Jonathan volunteered to see to throwing down some hay for their mounts while Will and Randy went on inside.

A short search yielded a pitchfork, but all the available fodder was up in the haymow, so Jonathan climbed up. Finding a small window that overlooked the corral, he began forking hay down to the hungry animals. Just as he judged he had given them enough, the barn door creaked open.

"Is there somebody in here who calls himself Jonathan Taverner?" an aggressive voice with a definite Southern drawl bellowed.

"Yeah," Jonathan called back, wondering. "Who wants to know?"

"Me," said a redheaded man who deftly pulled his wiry body up to the loft and stood looking expectantly at Jonathan, fists on his hips. Jonathan's jaw dropped when he recognized who was before him.

"Oh my Gawd! Silas! Silas Trent!" he whooped, grabbing the man and wrestling him down into the straw.

"Jeez, but it's good to see you again!" Silas returned joyously, bearhugging his old army buddy as they rolled in the hay. "I couldn't believe it when they told me who was up in our hayloft!"

"This is too good to be true!" Jonathan exclaimed.

"You're tellin' me!" returned Silas, just before he silenced Jonathan with a kiss.

Jonathan responded enthusiastically, feeling the years reeling backward, to the dark days of the War Between the States. His decimated regiment had been merged with another, run by a handsome red-headed colonel named Silas who had noticed Jonathan right away. Silas made Jonathan's heart beat faster every time he nodded at or spoke to him. But Jonathan had not dared approach his commanding officer with his inner feelings, living for the next few weeks in a sort of private purgatory.

Then had come the magic moment of breakthrough. A rare respite from the fighting had brought the entire camp an unaccustomed evening of rest and relaxation. Jonathan was surprised and thrilled when Silas came looking for his shy fellow soldier, brandishing a bottle of brandy liberated from the cellar of the burned out shell of a grand plantation mansion.

They ended up swapping life stories as they shared the liquor in an isolated grove of trees. He remembered Silas telling him about his brother's death in battle and how lonely it had been without him. "You remind me of him, a lot," Silas had murmured before taking another nip from the bottle. Jonathan took a chance, put his arms around the man and stammered out how much he wanted to help ease Silas' pain.

The first kiss was clumsy and sweet with the brandy they shared, as they both released weeks of pent up desire. Soon they were rolling in a nest made of their discarded uniforms, hands and mouths trying to do everything at once. And before dawn broke, they had.

After that, they were inseparable. At least they had been until Silas was wounded at the battle of Petersburg. His injures were not severe, but he had to be left behind with hundreds of other invalid Confederate soldiers to be captured by the relentlessly advancing Yankee forces. Jonathan had stayed with Lee's army to the bitter end at Appomattox a few weeks later, where he met and bonded with Randy, a soldier in Grant's forces, after a chance encounter in the woods surrounding the isolated courthouse.

"I went back to Richmond to look for you," he managed through Silas' continuing kisses, "but the Yankees had shipped all the wounded out, to all sorts of places. Nobody could tell me where you were. I saw it was hopeless and went on to Philadelphia with Randy. Please forgive me, Silas... "

"There's nothing to forgive, Jonathan," he sighed. "I'm glad you found someone like Randy to love you. He's a good man, I could tell as soon as I met him."

"Just like Will. Funny ain't it, the way we ended up with Yankee lovers."

"Lucky is what I'd call it."

"Yeah. I agree. Say, what happened to you, after you got left behind in Petersburg?"

"They sent me to a hospital in Washington, but I left as soon as I could. I couldn't find any trace of you, 'cause no one was botherin' to keep track of the rebel soldiers, so I headed home."

"To Kentucky, right?"

"Yeah. I found my folks had died and the farm was a mess. There was nothing to hold me there, so I sold the land and went as far west as I could, endin' up in these mountains. I'd lost everyone who'd ever meant anything to me and I guess I wanted to lose myself too, out here in this wilderness," explained Silas.

"That first winter, in '65, I spent in an old abandoned cabin I found. It nearly killed me. That experience taught me to appreciate the fact that I had my life, especially when I'd seen so many others die. It made me hungry for companionship too. Before the winter was over, I was feelin' so by myself that I coulda taken up with a porcupine! When spring finally came, I started leadin' the life of a wanderin' prospector, 'cause I found I had a knack for findin' just enough gold and silver to keep me well supplied for trampin' across and around the mountains."

"Then you met Will?" guessed Jonathan.

"Yep." Silas smiled at the memory. "One fine summer evening, while I was cookin' supper, Will wandered into my camp. He wasn't the first person I'd encountered in my wanderin's, but he certainly was the best lookin' dog I'd seen so far... and, well, I guess he saw something he liked in me, too... one thing led to another, and here we are... "

"Yeah, here we are... " Jonathan agreed. Both his and Silas' hands had been busy stoking and caressing each other the whole time, falling into remembered patterns of pleasuring. "Um, Silas? Ain't the others gonna miss us?"

"Naw. You know, Randy was almost as surprised as you when he realized who I was," drawled Silas, nibbling gently on Jonathan's ear. "So Will and he are lettin' us have plenty of time to get reacquainted. Will and Randy both knew what we were to each other before Randy met you, so they can guess what we're up to."

"Still I... you really think Randy would understand?"

"Randy told me he came with you to Richmond to help you look for me. Now that's love, brother. Have you ever thought how Randy might've felt about that? Scared mebbe that you'd leave him if you found me, yet standin' by you nonetheless?"

"Damn! I never once considered that!"

"No matter what happens in this barn tonight, you're not goin' to leave Randy, no more'n I would Will."

"Yeah, but... I mean, it really won't affect Will and you?"

"I love Will with every fiber in my body. And I share that love with all my heron brothers. Can you understand that?"

"But I'm not a heron man... "

"Hush," Silas said, placing a finger gently on Jonathan's lips. "I think I know enough by now to recognize another heron man when I see him, and if you and Randy ain't the type the Elxa would welcome into their tribe, then, well, I'm as blind as a bat!"

"What do we do about that? Don't we have to go see that medicine man Will told us about, Comet Man?"

"Falling Star," laughed Silas as he corrected his old friend. "Being a member of the Elxa tribe ain't like joinin' a club, Jonathan. If your spirit is the same as ours, you're a heron man, whether you know it or not. But knowin' it allows you to know how special your spirit is, and how wonderful it is to share yourself with your brothers. And there's even more to it than just makin' love, lots more, but we can talk about all that later... "

Silas kissed Jonathan then, long and deeply. Relaxing into Silas' embrace, Jonathan let all his doubts slip away and gave himself entirely over to the remembered touch and taste of the man he had loved in the midst of the war, long ago. And would love again...

In the new world, the golden sun slid downward towards a distant, forested horizon. From the camp Hun Tzu had established, he and Eric had a marvelous view of a gorgeous sunset. They cuddled and watched the few clouds in the turquoise sky turning various shades of pink and purple and red. Apparently, the days in the spirit realm were synchronous with the days on Earth. Then Hun Tzu felt Eric's body stiffen against his.

"Eric? What... "

"Look." Eric whispered, pointing.

Far below their vantagepoint, a flower spangled meadow opened amid the surrounding forest. Hun Tzu's eyes narrowed as he spotted what Eric had. Something was fluttering across the clearing.

It looked for all the world like a gauzy veil being blown by the wind. It appeared to be a yard square and colored a deep violet as it slowly rippled and curled along through the air. Eric whispered again.

"Is it a piece of clothing someone lost?" As he asked that, he looked in the direction from which it had come, halfway expecting to see the owner come chasing after it.

"No," the geomancer breathed back in sudden awe. "Look at the trees all around the field, the way their leaves and branches are bending. Whatever it is, it is moving against the wind!"

"But that doesn't make sense... "

Eric meant to say more, but the words died in his throat as the sheer purple veil stopped. It hung suspended above the meadow, still waving and whirling as it had before. As the men watched it, both felt goosebumps shoot up their spines as they realized it had noticed them.

"It... it sees us!" Eric hissed. "It's alive!"

"It is studying us," added Hun Tzu. "But it cannot mean us harm." He paused. "I think it is a spirit, one of those who protect the Elxa tribe. Perhaps we are seeing it in its true, natural form."

No sooner had the geomancer whispered those words, the veil-like spirit form began to move again. It continued the way it had been going before it sensed the heron men. Soon it reached the edge of the meadow and vanished into the forest.

Though they did not feel threatened, the pair agreed it was time to leave and donned their clothing as the brilliant daystar continued to sink and the azure sky shaded into darker and darker hues of blue and purple. Eric followed his companion back to the mouth of the short tunnel, at the foot of the huge oak. Then he hesitated. Turning, he looked back the way they had just come with a curious expression.

"What is it?" Hun Tzu asked.

"I thought I heard something... "

"Oh?"

Both men paused and strained their ears for a while. They heard nothing. Then Eric shook his head dismissively.

"Nah," he corrected himself. "I think seeing that spirit must have spooked me."

"Ah. Perhaps that is all it was. Come."

The shrinking edge of the red-golden disk continued to shed its splendid light over the empty camp, making the outcrop of broken rock crystal wink topaz and ruby sparks. Then a shadow abruptly smothered their brilliance. The owner of that shadow, alerted to the existence of this campsite by one of the many beneficent spirits who shared his world, looked carefully around. Sharp eyes and deft fingers examined every detail of the heron men's camp. When he was done, he retired to a secluded spot nearby, settling in to wait for the strangers' return.

"Is that it?" Lou Tyrone asked his companion.

"Yeah," Bill Axford answered, shaking his head. "Damn, but that town has grown! The last time I was here, it was hardly nothing!"

"I'll take your word for it," responded Lou, looking over the bustling town. It was the first time he had been there. "That's what a new railroad will do that for a community, I reckon."

Bill and Lou rode down from a neighboring ridge overlooking Steens Station. From their vantagepoint, the town appeared to be a beehive of activity. And as they rode into the crowded streets, they got a closer look at all the hubbub.

As they walked their horses down the newly laid out main street of Steens Station, Bill could not help but marvel at all the changes. It seemed to him that gangs of laborers were busy working everywhere, throwing up buildings with fancy street fronts. The smell of drying paint and freshly sawn lumber was as thick as the dust in the air.

The heron men turned off the busy street and headed for the old section of town, which stood on the south side of the new railroad tracks. Neither Lou nor Bill happened to notice the searching looks they got from a young man they passed, standing on a new plank sidewalk. He had seen the brands on the horses they rode, and the sight had amazed him.

"That's the symbol Frank told me about!" Luke Gibbe muttered to himself in shock. Despite that, he had enough presence of mind to stare hard at the men so that he could recognize them later. "It's the sign of the heron!"

Tolatil sat in the late afternoon sunlight, trying to meditate, seeking a meaning for the odd vision he had experienced earlier that day. Within the cave of mysteries, he knew Falling Star and the elder Xaculi, were doing likewise. But Tolatil found it difficult to concentrate, because of where he was. The spot he had chosen was an emotionally charged one for him, pregnant with sweet memories that kept challenging his mental discipline.

The place where he camped was within sight of the entrance to the cave of mysteries. Tolatil sat at the northern edge of a fair-sized meadow. Humps of gray rock rose here and there in the tall grass, appearing like the backs of great sea creatures surfacing in a green ocean.

Behind him, a gigantic fir tree sheltered his camp. Growing from a large crack in the underlying stone, it was accompanied by a few juvenile firs grouped around their parent. It was a lofty and ancient giant, whose trunk measured nearly four feet in diameter.

In the autumn of 1867, Tolatil had spent a month at that place, but not alone. His memories of the man who had shared that time and place with him still sweetly haunted his heart. He sighed in resignation and gave in to the voluptuous reminiscences.

The heron man was already naked, so as to be open to his guiding spirits, so that nothing might stand between him and their power. Tolatil's sex was already stiff and aching to be caressed as he reached to appease it. And all the while he thought of the touches he had received from his heron brother, Il-Xochitl.

The heat of the sun burned his skin like Il-Xochitl's kisses. The wind could caress him no more gently than those remembered hands. And when Tolatil came it was as he had with that beautiful man. The release was primal, volcanic, his pearly essence leaping out to spatter the violet and green pattern of the blanket he lay upon...

Minutes passed. When his breathing returned to normal, Tolatil rose and went to the building that stood nearby. Built with rock and timber, it served many purposes: storeroom, stable, guestspace.

The heron man stepped into its newest addition, a small pond not far from the cabin's front door, and splashed the sweat from his body. He, Nizano and Sees Far had worked there earlier that month, digging out and damming a low spot along the course of a small stream, the overflow from a hot spring that poured steaming from a crack in the rocks nearby, and snaked its way through the stony field before falling into Heron Creek. The water in the stone lined pool, big enough for two men to relax in, was pleasantly warm.

A small sound, of gravel crunching under shod hooves, made him look up just as he finished donning his breechclout. From his vantagepoint, Tolatil could see two riders approaching, following the narrow trail from Heron Creek up to the small, grassy plateau before the cave mouth. He recognized the man in the lead at once. Zeb Alden's careless pose made Tolatil's heart beat faster.

Upright in the saddle and bare chested in the sun he rode, the wide brim of his hat shading his face while the bright sunlight drew golden sparks from his thick body fur and beard. The sight of Zeb sparked something sweet in Tolatil. His lips moved of their own accord as he watched his heron brother approach.

Fair furred one!

Flashing like crystals of gold as you mount the mountains, daring the heights!

Bold, coruscating spirit, bringing the brightness of your love to the high places, seeking the source of all life...

Looking down, On the Mountain Ram And even The soaring Eagle...

Reaching for more life, more light, the ultimate light...

Suntoucher!

Tolatil breathed the words softly. They seemed to surface spontaneously from somewhere deep within himself, drawn forth by the sight of his handsome heron brother. He heard movement behind him, but did not bother to look and see who it was, not even when a hand fell upon his shoulder.

"Your words are fine, Tolatil, and should not be blown away heedlessly on the wind. I shall record them in the annals of our tribe."

The quietly spoken words drew the heron man around at last. Tolatil saw the shaman Falling Star standing at ease beside him, also gazing at the approaching newcomers, his long hair stirred by the wind and gleaming in the bright mountain sunlight. Then the Elxa chieftain spoke again, producing another sighing utterance of verse.

What is more beautiful?

A mountain valley strewn with wildflowers?

A hunting band returning with meat and hides?

A winter morning cold and silent and clean?

All of these are pleasant and welcome, but the most beautiful is always the sight of our brothers, seeking us and our love...

Tolatil nodded gravely at the shaman's words and looked back at the visitors. He studied the white man who rode behind Zeb. His hair and full beard were a ruddy shade of brown, reminding him of Il-Xochitl. He looked back at the dark maw that was the entrance to the cave of mysteries.

"Will Xaculi be joining us?"

"No, he was awake late into last night, and now he is resting," the shaman answered.

The pair waited until the travelers reached the spot where they stood. The white men dismounted and greeted them. Tolatil saw the stranger Zeb was escorting was just as lean and muscular as Il-Xochitl, but a bit shorter.

"Falling Star," Zeb said, hugging him.

"It is good to see you again, Xonka-ra," the shaman murmured, calling him by the tribal name the spirits of the Elxa had bestowed on Zeb. "And you also," he added, placing a hand on Zeb's companion's shoulder. He studied the man's face. "You must be Jeff Symms."

"Yes. I... I'm honored to meet you... sir... " he replied, a little nervously.

"Come, let us talk, where we can sit in the sunshine and see one another," Falling Star smiled, before turning to Tolatil. "May we use your blanket, my brother?"

"Er, yes, of course... "

Tolatil hurried ahead of the group, remembering something he had to see to first. The blanket he had been sitting on was a mess. The drying remnants of his orgasm still marked it.

Quickly flipping the blanket over, Tolatil smoothed it out and then seated himself over a noticeable spot where a puddle of cum had soaked through. He squirmed at the feel of the cold stickiness against his bare buttcheeks as the others approached. But they seemed to notice nothing amiss as they joined him and began to talk, about Jeff's journey and the spirit-quest he would soon undertake.

Jonathan yawned and lazily reached out for Silas. They had both dozed off after their first bout of lovemaking and Jonathan wanted to cuddle closer to his friend for comfort. But his questing hands found not the warm, hairy body he sought. Instead, they encountered dry, gritty dirt. That was odd. Where was the hay? He opened his eyes.

The impossible sight that met them made the man sit up at once. Jonathan looked around himself in dismay, scanning the shocking new landscape that surrounded his naked form. He had seen too many places like it in the past not to know that he was in a battlefield.

The parched earth was torn up and scorched. The trees were dead, twisted skeletons, reaching in vain towards a dull gray, sunless sky. A sickly, sweetish stench that stung his nose hung in the air as well, a vaguely rancid scent Jonathan remembered well. It was the smell of war, an indescribable foulness impossible to describe to anyone who had not experienced it.

"Oh ho! Another one!" Someone suddenly said. "I must say, there seem to be a lot of you heron men around here of late!"

Jonathan looked in the direction of the voice and blanched. A hideous, orange-furred beast crouched nearby. It grinned horribly at the naked man, showing off a mouthful of wickedly sharp teeth.

"What... what are you?"

"I'm what's going to kill you," it purred, furrowing the dead, ruined earth with sharp claws.

"But why? What did I ever do to you?"

"You're a heron man, and therefore my enemy. I've killed lots of people who've gotten in my way already. Wanna see?"

"No!"

But against his will, Jonathan was pulled to his feet and drawn after the ghastly beast. They walked to the nearby edge of a bluff. Something the man could not resist forced him to look down. He fought back an overwhelming urge to vomit.

A vast charnel pit met his horrified eyes. It was heaped with human bodies in various stages of decomposition, the whole exhaling a nauseating stench. Jonathan had seen plenty of death during the war, in almost all its awful forms, but this...

"Beautiful, aren't they?" the noxious beast sighed. "They are the foundations of my empire... "

"Dead people?!"

"It's the only way to get ahead in this world. A lot of people have to go down so that a few can stay on top. And I intend to be one of the ones on top!"

"That's sick!"

"It's the way of the world. And since this is the only world we have, I figure I ought to live well in it. If that means others have to die, then so be it."

"Why can't we work together to make the world better for everyone?"

The beast laughed until tears rolled down its hairy cheeks and dripped from its blunt muzzle, but at last it recovered enough to answer.

"People who think like that in this world are destined to be always taken advantage of and die poor!"

"The heron men," Jonathan thought suddenly. "They work together and they're not poor!"

"We'll see how rich they are after I run them off their land! I own it now!"

"You... you're Martin Porter!" Jonathan gasped, remembering what Randy had told Will earlier that day.

The beast laughed again.

"No I'm not! You don't even know who I am! How can you fight what you don't know?"

"My brother may not know you, but I do."

The beast turned with a snarl, angered at being surprised on its own ground. Jonathan looked as well and gasped. He saw a native, from whose back spread a gorgeous, diaphanous pair of wings, appearing to be a faintly luminous web of fibrous light.

Jonathan noted that the newcomer wore an Elxa glyphstone. He was a heron man, if man he was. His face was ageless, rather than aged. He could have been fifty or five hundred years old, it was difficult to tell. The native calmly returned the horrific beast's murderous glare.

The heron man's eyes were a deep shade of indigo, intense and penetrating. As soon as he had appeared, Jonathan had detected a change in the air, a breeze redolent of clean, damp earth, dispelling the choking miasmas that rose from the charnel pit. The beast shrank back a little from the power it could sense radiating from the native. But it was still defiant as it spoke.

"Oh? Do you know me?"

"You are Lyxtli, enemy of the Way of the Heron."

"That is just a name! A mask!" it spat. "You do not know who I really am. And when I finally do reveal my true self, you and your tribe will die amid ghastly torments!"

"That may be your plan, evil one, but it shall not come to pass today."

"Your arrival may have spared your friend for the time being, but what will you do when I come to claim your lands for myself?"

"You might take our land, but our spirits will always be free. And your 'empire' will have been built in vain." The winged native pointed solemnly. "Look."

Jonathan found the force that had held him in place was gone. He moved at once to join the native while he was speaking to the white man's terrifying captor. Like the noxious beast, Jonathan also looked to see what the heron man was talking about.

A great mountain bathed in pure sunlight stood to the west of where they stood. Somehow Jonathan knew it was Zoraxte, the sacred mountain of the heron men, that Silas had mentioned to him. Surprisingly, his eyes could clearly see the faces of five men in the distance, riding towards Zoraxte. Jonathan did not recognize the features of any of the riders, but the diabolical animal certainly did. Its red eyes widened in shock when they saw the face of the youngest man in the group.

"No!" it roared, turning on the native. "You cannot have him!"

"He shares our spirit. He was always one of us. Now he comes home to join us and turn his back on everything you represent."

"No! It cannot be!"

"Ah, but it is." The native placed his hand on Jonathan's shoulder. The fingers brushed his skin as lightly as a butterfly's wing might. "Enjoy your empire of death. It will die when you do."

The creature howled in rage and frustration, but already the noise seemed far away to Jonathan. He realized he was moving very quickly through space, away from the dead land of the uncouth beast. When they finally stopped, Jonathan saw they were standing before the cabin of Silas and Will. He turned to his rescuer.

"Who are you? What was that thing?"

"Do not trouble yourself with those matters now, my son."

As the coppery-skinned man spoke, his magnificent pinions curled, embraced and gently began to caress Jonathan's bare back. They stirred the fine, red-gold hairs that grew thickly across the white man's shoulders, imparting a sweetly stimulating, subtle energy. Jonathan felt goosebumps as the odd force traveled down the ridge of his spine, giving pleasure as well as power, calming and reinforcing his inner strength.

Then he felt the warmth expand and looked to see what was happening. Jonathan watched in wonder as he produced a pair of delicate wings of his own, unfurling gracefully to shine and phosphoresce. He willed them to move, waving them, watching their delicate subtle iridescence as the sunlight poured down on him and the mysterious native.

"We will meet again, and when we do, I will teach you and your lover the Way of the Heron, so that your love will deepen and nourish others of our nature. I will tell you this now: everything the hyaena, an evil spirit in animal form, told you was untrue. It was trying to frighten you, weaken your spirit with fear."

"That's good to hear. I like to think that people workin' together can make the world better."

"Perhaps," the heron man murmured as he looked away, "a better world has been already found for us... "

Jonathan followed his gaze. The native was looking towards the pond near the cabin, shaded by a few huge trees. A portion of the trunk of the largest, a very old willow, suddenly sparkled and wavered in a most bizarre and unnatural way.

Its substance transformed, becoming something else, not matter, not energy, intangible, but still real. Then a bearded man dressed in the barest of native garb emerged from the oddly wavering area, his beaded breechclout exposing a lithe, lightly furred body. His face was an intriguing mix of oriental and western features.

"Who... what... "

"Go back to Silas now," the native crooned as he kissed his companion's cheek. Abruptly, the world for Jonathan Taverner faded to black...

...but the light quickly returned, revealing the semi-shadow of the hayloft, showing Silas' arms holding Jonathan tightly and warmly. The men's passion had driven a hollow in the sweet smelling straw beneath the blanket they lay on and they were pressed together at the bottom of the small depression.

"Silas!" he exclaimed, hugging the man closer, relieved to be back.

"Huh? What? What's wrong?" the prospector asked, shocked into full wakefulness.

"I had a dream. But it seemed so real... "

"Tell me," Silas said, sitting up with a serious look that Jonathan remembered well: it was the look Silas would get when they were about to go into battle. He began to relate his dream.

"...and then I was here again, with you," he finished. "What happened to me?"

"You had a medicine dream," explained Silas. "We heron men have ones like them all the time, but usually when something important is about to happen. And yours musta been important. It sounds like the man you described was Falling Star."

"The chief?"

"Yeah."

"That... hyaena thing I saw... I think it was whoever is tryin' to buy up the Heron Creek drainage."

"But you didn't catch his name?"

"No. Only that he wasn't this Martin Porter fella that Randy says took out the claim on the heron men's land."

"Hmm. We'd better go talk to Will about this," Silas said, standing up and looking around for his scattered clothes. "Even though I don't feel completely 'reacquainted' with you yet," he added with a wink.

"You think we could bunk down here for the night together, later on?"

"That sounds good to me. Let's go and talk to our pardners about things over some grub and see what happens."

"Come to think of it, I am gettin' kinda hungry."

"Well," grinned Silas, stroking his limp cock suggestively. "I think I could cum again with a little help."

Jonathan laughed.

"How's about we save that for dessert?"

"You got it, brother."

"So, you used your veteran status to finagle a government job, workin' for the land bureau?" Will asked.

Will and Randy were reclining on a blanket spread out beside the pond in front of the cabin, naked, swapping life stories and getting to know one another better. After Silas' departure, they had gone in for a brief swim, to wash the day's sweat off. Randy absently fluffed up the thick black fur on his chest, finding he had completely dried off. But that did not motivate him to get dressed.

"Yeah. I had experience surveying, and after the cold shoulder Jonathan got from my family in Philadelphia, I figured it'd be best if we got out on our own. And we've seen a lot of the country since then, bein' sent here and there by the desk jockeys who don't want to get their hands dirty."

"Have you thought about settling down?"

"Oh sure. We just never found anyplace that felt right."

"Well I hope you give us a chance."

"Well, it's not as if we have to rush back to Port Bolon after this job," Randy considered. "I think we could make the time to visit your medicine man."

"You won't regret it."

"Well," he sighed, glancing at the barn, "it looks like we might be eatin' dinner without Jonathan or Silas."

"That stew Silas made will keep for them," Will said. "We could begin without them."

"I suppose." Randy sighed again. He looked up at Will suddenly. "You think they'll... I mean, will we see them again before tomorrow morning?"

"I think so, why?"

"Well, they haven't seen each other in years, and they were lovers, once... "

"Don't be afraid," Will murmured, placing a warm hand on Randy's forearm. "Jonathan loves you, very deeply. I could see that in the way he treats you."

"Yes, but Silas was his first... " Randy shook his head and asked. "Aren't you worried about Silas?"

"Worried that he'd leave me? No."

"I wish I was that sure of Jonathan."

"He's had plenty of chances to wander before now, hasn't he?"

"Well, yes... " Randy thought of the times they had both wandered, the men they had shared and the ones they had not...

"The fact that he's still with you ought to count for something, then," Will murmured, bringing Randy back to the present.

Randy looked at Will. Lying on his side, his Elxa glyphstone dangled down from his neck to brush against the blanket. Randy slowly reached out and touched it tentatively.

"I can't tell whether your feelin's for Silas are deep or... " he hesitated. "I mean, are partnerships usually so casual and loose among the heron men?"

Will smiled. "It only looks that way," he said, gently stroking the black hairs on Randy's arm. "Relationships among the heron men can be quite brief as well, but that doesn't mean our connections aren't as deep and strong as a great river, or beautiful as a mountain meadow full of spring wildflowers and butterflies."

"It's hard to imagine something like that happenin' so quick... I mean, after four years, Jonathan and I still seem to be growin' into each other."

"It's the same for Silas and me, sharin' the kind of love that grows slowly, like an oak tree, becoming ever larger and stronger over time. But that doesn't mean we can't share ourselves with our heron brothers. Nor is what we share the only kind of love the heron men honor," Will murmured. "Since I've come to know the Way of the Heron, I've learned that love isn't slavery. I can't control Silas, tell him what to do, just because I love him. In fact, that wouldn't be love, it'd just be a mean sort of possessiveness."

"I think I see it."

"I thought you might. After all, you didn't kick up a fuss when Silas asked if he could go and get reacquainted with Jonathan. And I think you knew what he meant by 'gettin' reacquainted'."

"I think that was because I was still too much in shock," Randy chuckled. "As I live and breathe, Will, the last thing I expected was to run into Silas Trent out here, four years after we lost his trail in Richmond. With luck like that, I ought to find the nearest card game and sit in!"

It was Will's turn to laugh. He rolled onto his back and responded, speaking up into the leafy branches of a myrtle tree that shadowed them both. A warm wind was making the broad leaves rustle and wave gayly over the men's heads like a multitude of green, ragged flags.

"You tell Silas that and he'll have a hand of poker goin' in a heartbeat! I never knew a man who likes to play cards the way he does!"

They settled into a easy silence after that. Randy looked across the pond they had swam in, at the mossy boulders along one edge, at two metallic green dragonflies that seemed to be playing tag at the water's edge, and felt the peace of the place, shining from it like the light that fell from the late afternoon sun. And he thought, or did something else whisper to his brain, that if contentment was deposited somewhere like a hidden vein of gold, waiting to be found, surely this was the place...

"Will?"

"Yes?"

"I was wonderin', about tonight. I mean, I have a tent I can set up. Would here be alright?"

"Sure," Will said, causing Randy a moment of disappointment until he went on. "But I was goin' to suggest, well, that's a big bed in the cabin, and I'm not used to sleepin' alone."

"Neither am I," Randy whispered back.

The men looked at each other and a silent understanding passed between them. Then Will's eyes focused on some point beyond Randy and he cleared his throat. Randy turned his head and saw Silas and Jonathan coming towards them. The pair were carrying their clothes and had nothing on but their boots and hats. Randy's heart beat faster as he stared at the two naked, hairy redheads who approached.

"How's the water?" Silas asked, dropping his bundle beside the blanket and setting his hat on top of it.

"Okay," Randy answered, still admiring Silas' furry chest, as red as Jonathan's, "not as cold as it looks."

"Cold or not, I need to wash. Hi there, handsome," he said to Will, kneeling to kiss his lover before pulling off his boots. "We have to talk."

"About what?" Will asked as he removed a blonde straw that was stuck in Silas' crimson beard.

"Jonathan had a medicine dream," Silas returned as he stood again and waded into the pond.

"Huh?" Will and Randy exclaimed in stereo.

"Yeah." Jonathan affirmed as he left his clothes beside Randy's and followed Silas in.

"Lemme clean up first and then we can talk about it over supper," Silas drawled over his shoulder. "Now where did I put that soap... ah ha!"

"Here," volunteered Jonathan companionably, "lemme get your back... "

It was nearly sunset when a train chugged noisily into the new depot at Steens Station. Two men in one compartment scanned the scene outside in open mouthed dismay, for it was so unlike the sleepy hamlet they remembered visiting the previous September. It appeared as if a whole new town had sprouted up around the train station.

"Well," Tim O'Fallon began, reaching for his hat, "this is it."

"You still got that feather, right?" asked Stu Drake.

"Yes, dear," Tim responded in a weary-sounding falsetto, reaching into his shirt pocket and showing the heron men's token to his lover. "Of course I do!" he went on in a normal tone.

"I was just checking."

"Only for the hundredth time," Tim said in mock annoyance as he stuck the dull blue plume in his hatband, so that it stood at the front above the brim, "I wasn't about to lose it, seeing as it's our only signal to whoever has come to guide us."

Stu nodded.

"You have to admit, it's a clever idea." continued Tim, as he made sure the heron feather was firmly fixed in place. It would not do to have it get blown away by the first gust of wind he encountered.

"I was just worried," Stu began. "Ever since I've started having those dreams, well, I just won't feel right until I've talked to one of the Elxa about them."

Tim looked at Stu and suppressed an urge to shudder. He recalled what his lover had told him, about the recurring dream, or rather nightmare, he had been having. It had begun on the transcontinental journey and seemed to grow in intensity and detail as they neared their destination.

Always, Stu was on a hill, watching in horror as a young man tried to escape from a terrible wild beast that was pursuing him. And then a voice would speak to him. Stu would turn to see the heron chieftain, Falling Star, whom Tim knew from a dream of his own during their visit to the area the previous year.

Stu's description of the heron man tallied with what Tim had seen, so he knew the dream was not something to be ignored. In it, Falling Star had ordered Stu to save the young man and bring him with him to the valley of the heron. Tim did not like seeing Stu so troubled, so he tried to lighten his mood.

"Well, worrywart," he said, reaching over to tug affectionately on his lover's dark brown-red chin whiskers, making Stu smile, "get your bag and we'll find our guides. I'm sure they'll be happy to hear you out and give their interpretation of this dream of yours."

The depot was a busy place. Tim and Stu got off the train and elbowed their way through the throng that milled about on the platform. There were railroad workers coming and going, porters juggling luggage and freight, and people waiting to depart or greet arrivals.

"What do you think?" asked Tim, after they had been jostled by the crowd for a bit.

"Let's sit down," Stu suggested. "Over there."

Tim looked where Stu was pointing. There were some openings on a set of benches at one end of the platform. But as the pair began to move in that direction, Tim felt someone place a hand on his arm.

"Tim O'Fallon?"

"Yes?"

Tim turned to face a man with the same color hair and beard as his partner. But this man was leaner and shorter. As he smiled a greeting, Tim's eye fell to the open top of his dark flannel shirt and the black stone pendant engraved with a well-remembered glyph lying against the reddish chest fur that burst forth there.

"I'm Bill Axford," he said as they shook hands. "I've arraigned for us to spend the night with your friend, Dave Judd. Then we can leave for the valley of the heron tomorrow."

"This is my partner, Stu Drake," began Tim, introducing them. "He's had some odd dreams he needs to tell you about."

"Really?" Bill said, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "Well, tell me about them while we walk over to Dave's place."

"That was delicious."

Jonathan wiped the inside of his bowl with a fragment of biscuit as he spoke before popping the morsel into his mouth. Then he pushed the empty container away. As he chewed he felt wetness on his lips and thrust his tongue out to capture the last savory drop of stew that clung to his crimson moustache.

He swallowed the last mouthful and sighed. Jonathan fished in his pocket for his tobacco pouch and started to roll a cigarette. Will looked across the table at his partner, who was busy loading his pipe.

"That was quite a story," he said, referring to the retelling of Jonathan's medicine dream.

Silas nodded as he lit his pipe.

"You recognize who he saw?"

"It had to have been Falling Star. Or a spirit in his form."

"I agree," said Will.

"You know," Silas began, leaning back in his chair and waving his glowing pipe for emphasis, leaving a trail of fragrant smoke in the air, "I could ride over to the cave of mysteries and let Falling Star know about all this."

"Hmm," Will scratched his beard in thought. "The chief oughta at least hear the bad news concernin' this Porter fella, as soon as possible. I wish I could go with you," he said as he glanced at Randy, "but I gotta see this surveyin' job through first."

"Then I'll just make it a quick trip," Silas said after another pull on his pipe. The words were punctuated by puffs of smoke as he spoke. "I'll deliver the message and come right back. Shouldn't take more'n two-three days."

"We ought to be done with the survey by then," Randy commented. "And then, if your friend Phil doesn't mind putting off the survey of his land for a little while longer, we could go see your shaman."

"Oh, he won't mind." Silas said.

"Then there wouldn't be any need for you to hurry back," began Will, to Silas. "Why don't you wait at the cave of mysteries for us?"

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed. "I'll either be there or at Heron Ranch, where we can hook up for the journey."

"Excuse me," said Jonathan, getting up. "I need to go find me a tree."

He stepped out of the cabin and admired the early twilight fantasy of orange and pink clouds that curled in the western sky. Jonathan strode to the nearest tree and pulled out his cock. A heartfelt sigh escaped his lips as a strong yellow stream burst forth, foaming and steaming its way down the rough trunk.

"Mind if I join you?" Silas asked. Before Jonathan could answer, another stream jumped to strike the trunk.

"Ahh... "

Pinching off the snout of his foreskin, Jonathan let his piss balloon within the skin, swishing warmly around the sensitive glans underneath. It was his way of keeping his dickhead clean of smegma. With a small whoosh, he released the trapped urine and then repeated the action. Silas grinned as he imitated his friend.

"Gettin' ready for tonight?"

"Are we still on?"

"Sure, if you want."

"Hell, yes I do," he snorted. Then he hesitated. "I haven't talked to Randy yet though."

"Well, go talk to him! I'm leavin' tomorrow and it'll be a few days before we see each other again. I can wait to be alone with you again if I hafta, but I sure don't wanna!"

"You seen Luke?"

The cowboy, one of the hands from the Wildcat Ranch, scratched his head as he pondered Dick Horst's question.

"Nope," he finally answered.

"He was supposed to meet us here."

"Mebbe he's at Mazie's place," the hand grinned.

The foreman rolled his eyes in consternation. His straight-laced boss would not be pleased to hear his teenaged son frequented whorehouses. Telling his companion to wait there, Dick went to check for himself.

Mazie's place was on the south side of the tracks, in the old part of Steens Station. To accommodate the influx of railroad workers, the business-minded madam had added a new wing to her adobe home, a timber frame building that was ill-matched architecturally, but tripled her work space. As Dick walked in, he looked over the bevy of working women who were lounging around the piano in the lobby, listening to a desultory tune being played by the burly bouncer who worked there.

"Hello, Dick," smiled Mazie as she came over. "This is a surprise. You don't usually come by to see us on Wednesdays."

"I wish I had the time," he muttered regretfully, eyeing the ladies, "but I'm lookin' for a stray. Luke Gibbe."

"Horace's son?"

"Yep. Is he here?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"I wouldn't be much of a madam if I didn't know what was going on under my own roof at all times," she laughed.

"Well, if he does show up here, keep him here, but don't let any of your girls get their hooks in him. I'm sure his dad will pay you for your pains."

"He don't want his son havin' sex?"

"Well, you know how he is... "

"You know, Horace needs to relax some. After that... business... last week," Mazie shuddered, thinking of the rancher's latest outrage, "he oughta realize that not everybody thinks like him, or wants to. I swear, sometimes I think he'd like nothing better than to run me and the other madams out of town, if he could. And where would you men be then?"

"I know, but what can I do? I'm paid to follow orders," Dick said, shaking his head. "I'm goin' out to search the town now, but I'll swing by to check in again later."

"Good luck," she called after the foreman as he left.

By the time they reached Dave Judd's store, Bill had heard Stu fully describe his dream and was looking thoughtful. Bill said he would have to speak with his companion and plan from there. When they entered the store, Tim took one look at Dave and knew something was wrong.

"Hello Tim, hello Stu, have a seat," the merchant said. He was obviously glad to see his old friends, but his eyes were serious as he turned them on the heron man who accompanied them. "Bill, we need to talk."

"What's up?"

"Potentially, a lot of trouble. There's a young man here, Luke Gibbe. He's the lover of the man I was tellin' you about earlier."

"Oh," Bill said, looking shaken.

"Gibbe?" asked Tim. "Is he related to the Horace Gibbe who was stirring up the local Indians the last time we were here?"

"Yes, he's the son of Horace Gibbe, the rancher who caused all that trouble."

"And he's one of us?"

"Yes."

"Who's his lover?" asked Stu.

Quickly, Dave told the newcomers a story that made their blood run cold. How a week before, Horace Gibbe had personally horsewhipped a man to within an inch of his life, then bound his almost lifeless body to a horse and whipped it out into the wilderness. The victim had been Frank Lusk, a cowboy who worked for him.

"We met him last year, remember?" Stu reminded Tim.

"Yes, but... Good God! Why would Horace do that to Frank?"

"I didn't know, until Luke showed up to tell me," Dave went on. "Horace somehow found out that Frank was havin' sex with one of the men on his ranch. He went plumb crazy, sayin' it was sinful and disgustin' and all that usual stuff men like him say about men like us. Anyway, when Frank refused to tell him who his pardner was, Horace tried to beat it out of him. But he didn't tell... "

"...so Horace doesn't known his own son was Frank's lover?" finished Stu, guessing the rest.

"That's right."

"Did Luke witness this?" Tim asked.

"Yes," said Dave grimly. He wasn't the only one there who felt his heart going out to Luke.

"Where is Luke?" Bill asked.

"Hidin' in my stable with Lou," answered Dave. "And when his father finds out he's run away and I helped him... "

"Don't worry, Dave, there's more going on here than you realize," Bill reassured the shopkeeper. "Stu, you go introduce yourself and see if Luke's the one you saw in your medicine dreams."

"What?" asked Dave.

As Bill and Tim began to explain to Dave, Stu when around behind the store. He heard voices before he entered the cool shadowiness of the stables. He was almost prepared to see what he thought he would see, but the sight of the man from his dreams gave him pause anyway.

He was a young man, eighteen perhaps. The shortish hair on his head was a light brown, as was his moustache and the fine stubble beard he sported, from not having shaved for a couple of days. The pain and hurt Stu saw reflected in his blue eyes made him want to hug the man, just as the heron man called Lou was doing.

"Hello," he called, startling Luke. "Don't worry, I'm a friend. My name's Stu Drake."

"He's one of the men we came here to meet," Lou explained.

"You've got to take me with you," pleaded Luke, "back to the valley of the heron, where my father can't find me. Frank always said he'd take me someday, but... "

"I'm not sure if that's wise," Lou said, in spite of Luke's looking as if he were about to break down and cry, as the memory of his lover's fate replayed itself in his mind.

"I think it was meant to be," began Stu, placing a hand protectively on Luke's shoulder as Lou shot him a quizzical look. "If Falling Star told me in my dreams to bring you to him, Luke, then I guess I have no choice but to do so."

"You had a medicine dream?" Lou asked, a little surprised.

"That's what Bill called it, yes. Falling Star appeared to me and told me to rescue Luke."

"He's the chief, right?" asked Luke.

"Yes."

"Then you have to take me!" Luke smiled.

Less than an hour later, five riders quietly slipped out of Steens Station, three on borrowed horses. The gathering darkness acted like a concealing, protective cloak over them. Only one person noticed the small group as it headed west.

In the unlit alley where the man stood, the dark reddish brown of his shoulder length hair and short beard appeared as black as the shadows surrounding him, as black as his eyes, which followed the knot of mounted men. Apparently satisfied with whatever he saw, he began to turn away. The next moment, something pressed itself against his side.

"Hold it, half-breed," a low voice urged, backed up by feel of a knife nudging his ribs. "Just hand over whatever cash you're carryin' and I won't have to kill you."

"And what if I'm already dead?"

"Are you craz... "

The thief never finished his question, nor had time to fully realize what was happening to him. In an instant, his intended victim turned on him, baring fangs like an animal's that gleamed white in the alley's gloom, before burying them in the man's throat. The knife fell from the outlaw's hand, all feeling already gone. Soon, the lifeless body slumped into his erstwhile victim's arms. Jack swallowed the last of the man's blood, then reached down and pocketed the weapon before searching his attacker's clothes. A small amount of money and a cheap pocketwatch joined the knife.

'My God, Jack!'

The vampire glanced over the shoulder of the corpse, peering deeper into the depths of the gloomy alley for the source of the telepathic outburst. Undaunted by the darkness, Jack Ramsey's eyes clearly made out the form of an oddly colored wolf staring at him with eyes that looked like livid, red-orange coals. The unnatural animal, a werewolf, came closer.

'Is he... '

'Yes, Eben,' Jack affirmed mentally as he shouldered the corpse. 'I have to get rid of the body.'

Moving faster than a human eye could follow, Jack carried his burden easily away from the town, to the edge of a railroad construction yard. Wielding a shovel with equal speed, he soon had the corpse buried deep in a rubbish heap. Tossing the shovel aside, he looked at the werewolf who had followed him, sitting quietly nearby.

Jack sensed Eben's troubled thoughts. The vampire was sorry Eben had seen him feeding. He knew it was not a pleasant sight, but Eben also knew it was Jack's nature.

And Eben had seen for himself that the man was an evildoer. Jack had been subsisting on the blood of criminals for almost forty years, as he had been taught to, and felt neither guilt nor pride concerning the method of his survival. He thought it best to avoid discussion of what had happened, moving on to another concern that had worried him of late.

'Are you still planning to follow your brothers back to the valley of the heron?' he asked silently, sending his thoughts to Eben.

'They're your brothers too,' Eben reminded him.

'Yes. I know... ' the vampire heaved a mental sigh.

Eben sighed too. In the months since Jack had returned, he had allowed only a few of the heron men, Falling Star and Xaculi among them, to know him personally. Word had spread quietly to the rest of the tribe that Hunts-by-night was back, as Jack took on the duties of his lover, the real Hunts-by-night, to protect the Elxa. Despite what Jack knew about the two hundred years Hunts-by-night had lived and loved openly with the heron men, Jack was possessed of a stubborn opinion that a general knowledge of himself as a vampire would only breed fear of himself within the tribe, because he had seen that fear everywhere else in his extensive travels.

'We've spoken of this before. I cannot reveal myself to ordinary men like them. Sooner or later they'd guess what I was and their fear would overcome any friendship we might have.'

'You're so wrong,' telepathed Eben, 'but we won't debate it now.'

Jack nodded and went on.

'Will you go with them?'

'Yes, to keep an eye on them, like we agreed.'

'Do you think you could handle the job on your own?'

'Yes, but... '

'Eben, I know you can't read human minds like I can, so take my word for it: something very bad, very wrong, is going on here in Steens Station. I've caught stray thoughts from several people concerning plans for the lands to the west of here... '

'The valley of the heron?'

'They don't know our land by that name, but yes, that's what they mean. I intend to stay here and investigate.'

'Alright.'

The werewolf came closer and nuzzled Jack, pressing its cold nose against the vampire's cold hand in affection. Jack thought about the love he had shared with Eben during their mission, Eben's warm and vital living human body coupling with his, giving love unstintingly. Eben felt the thoughts too.

'Take care, my brother,' Eben said. 'I love you.'

Without waiting for a response, Eben took off. As he vanished into the night, pursuing the trail of their fellow Elxa tribesmen, Jack's reply came silently. The telepathic farewell sounded in Eben's mind along with a sweet strain of emotional longing.

'I love you, Eben... '

The teenager's legs were not the only things that felt tired as he trudged resolutely through the darkening woods. He had been walking all that day, and most of the previous night, using the sun and stars to guide his steps southward as he tried to put as much distance as he could between himself and everything he had ever known and come to hate. Now that the sun had set, he knew he had to stop and wait for the stars to come out, but a faint light had caught his eye and youthful curiosity drew him closer to investigate.

The uncertain flicker he had glimpsed from afar proved to be a campfire, burning amid a natural rampart of rocks. As he cautiously wormed his way through the surrounding underbrush to get closer, he saw a handsome young man in a buckskin shirt with long light brown hair and a full beard seated before the flames, turning a spit that held a rabbit. The runaway's mouth began to water when he saw what the stranger was up to. He had not eaten anything since the day before.

When the man turned his head, the youngster saw he was wearing an odd pendant of some sort. It looked like a dark, rounded stone, a pebble from a river perhaps, strung on a rawhide cord. There was something, an image he could not quite make out from where he hid, engraved on it, white lines that curled suggestively and mysteriously.

To his surprise, the man soon got up and walked into the surrounding forest, away from where the lad lay hidden. For a few brief moments, he thought about making a dash into the empty camp, snatching the rabbit and running off, but the aching muscles in his legs told him his plan was probably impossible. As he wondered where the man had gone, a sudden noise behind him answered his unspoken question. A pair of big hands closed on his shoulders firmly from above and the shock of it made the exhausted youth faint dead away.

Dick Horst reined in his steed before his boss's home. He jumped off and went inside, full of dread. He did not relish telling Horace Gibbe that his only son and heir was missing.

Nor had he noticed the shadow that had followed him from Steens Station, one that though afoot had easily kept pace with his horse. As Dick went inside, Jack merged himself with the darkness along one side of the residence, cloaking himself from human eyes as he had learned to do. He probed the structure with his mind, listening not only to the words the two men exchanged, but their thoughts as well.

To paraphrase their conversation, Horace angrily ordered Dick back to Steens Station, to keep looking for Luke. Jack let him go, staying to probe further into Horace's mind. After learning he had filed a land claim on the valley of the heron, Jack was determined to find out what else the unscrupulous rancher was up to.

One thing did puzzle the vampire: usually when Jack read human minds, he saw everything in a flash, but with Horace Gibbe, there seemed to be a sort of fog that Jack had to concentrate to read through. The only thing like it he knew of was the mental discipline of Falling Star, Xaculi, a few other Elxa and a handful of adepts he had met in the far east, who had the ability to close their minds to him. Horace however seemed in no way like them, in deeds or thoughts. Jack continued to probe, hoping to learn more.

When the young runaway came to later, he found himself lying in pitch darkness, completely covered up in a warm blanket and unable to move. He held still as he took stock of his situation. He soon realized that his clothes were gone and his naked body was being pressed pleasantly against the equally nude, hairy side of a sleeping man, probably the same one he had seen earlier.

Though relaxed in sleep, the man's right arm was pressed firmly against the teenager's back. His big hand cupped the mounds of his bedmate's buttocks lightly, the tips of the longest fingers thrust between the youth's thighs to tickle the back of the fuzzy ballsac. The lad's cock jerked at the feel of those fingers and started to grow and harden.

He thought of the many times he had slept cuddling like that with his best friend Rich in their bed at the orphanage, and the things they would do, making each other cum until the boys had fallen asleep in each other's arms from sheer exhaustion. Thinking of Rich made him sad, so he tried to think of something else. Fortunately, he had an excellent distraction at hand in the person of his unknown bedmate.

He was lying on his left side with his head pillowed in the crotch of the man's shoulder. The musky-sweet smell of mansweat filled his nostrils as he carefully moved his free hand. Pushing between the wool blanket and the hairy flesh under it, he inched towards the man's crotch. Soon his fingers found a plush bush of pubic hair and the base of a warm log of flesh, thick and soft.

He ran his fingertips down the length of the flaccid tube, to the hooded tip that lay perched limply atop an ample ballsac. He brushed across the moist opening, pushed one finger under the foreskin to touch the velvety, spongy cockhead hidden within, stroked the piss slit and the valley beneath it. Carefully, he brought the finger back to his nose and inhaled.

The scent was strong, very different from Rich's smell, or his own. He lowered it to his lips and tasted it, imagining his tongue was caressing the stranger's cockhead the way he used to suck on Rich's. The taste was so different and exciting.

He had never done to a man the things he had done with Rich. The orphans had often talked about what it might be like to do such things with an adult as they stroked and sucked their adolescent cocks together, but had had no opportunities to find out. At least he had not until then, and he intended to take full advantage of the situation.

Having licked his fingers clean of the stranger's cockmusk, he eagerly reached to get some more. But to his surprise, a great change had taken place since he had last touched the man. The adult's cock was now swollen and reaching up over the hairy belly, hot, rigid and dripping more of the good-tasting fluid. It was not long before the lad's own prick was in a similar state of excitement, drooling slick juices against a hairy hip.

Amazed at how much bigger the man's cock now felt, he deftly rolled the heavy foreskin back and got his fingers wet again. He thrust the gooey fingers into his mouth, sucking rapturously. Then, from somewhere above him, a low voice spoke, rumbling gently.

"You sure know how to wake a man up, son."

The youngster froze at once. He was unsure how the stranger would react to what he was doing. But past experience told him it could be violently painful.

At the orphanage, Reverend Brown would punish the boys he caught playing with themselves or each other with a painful caning. So Rich and he had always been extra careful to play late at night, when they knew the mean reverend would be asleep, and be sure to swallow every drop of the spunk they shot, so as not to leave any evidence of their forbidden fun. Since they had loved the taste of their own cum, that part had not exactly been a hardship.

The man moved the arm that held the lad, gently stroking the runaway's back and ass. It was surprising and thrilling at the same time, especially the unexpected feelings in his backside. When one of the man's callused fingers traced his asscrack he shuddered violently, wondering how Rich and he could have missed such a sensitive area to play with. He began to rub his stiff young prick against the man's hip, feeling the familiar, sweet pressures building within him, getting ready to pop...

"Oh no you don't!" the man chuckled.

He rolled the orphan on his back and ducked his head under the blanket. The youngster gasped as he felt the man's lips and tongue close over his hard prick and begin to lick and suck on it. The sensations his bushy beard elicited as it rubbed across the lad's hairless chest and belly were indescribable. Already close, the man's actions brought him swiftly to the edge after a few moments.

"Oh... mister... " he gasped. "I'm gonna cum... "

His warning only spurred the man on to suck harder. His orgasm, when it came, was stronger than any the lad had ever experienced before. He felt his spunk shooting forcefully, blasting down the stranger's hungry throat in hot, thick gouts, as the man swallowed and swallowed without losing any of his bedmate's seed.

"Damn, son!" the man muttered, lying back after he had sucked down the last drops of the lad's cum. "You sure can shoot quite a load!"

"Did you like it?" he asked cautiously.

The man chuckled pleasantly again as he lay on his back and began to lazily stoke his still-hard cock.

"Of course I did. You taste good, son."

At that, the youth immediately bent across his companion's hairy midsection and clumsily tried to return the favor. It was all he could do to get the big, meaty cockhead into his mouth, but he licked and sucked for all he was worth, savoring the musky taste, while the man stroked the shaft of his dick. After a time, the lad felt the man's other hand come up to gently stroke the back of his head.

"I'm close, son," he whispered hoarsely. "You don't have to... "

But the youngster had no intention of letting a drop of the man's spunk get past him. He sucked harder, like the man had, silently letting him know what he wanted. With a deep, shuddering sigh that vibrated the man's rib cage, and the runaway's head lying on it, the man came.

The kid's mouth was instantly full of the strong taste of adult mancream. He swallowed and gasped and choked and swallowed again, but some of it flowed up and out his nose and spilled down his chin. Despite all that he continued to eat the tasty load of mature cum, determined to please this stranger who had been the first to give it to him.

At length, the man pulled his partner up atop him so that he lay with his belly against the man's. Taking the orphan's face in his hands, the man began to lick what was left of his load off the youngster's cheeks, chin, nose and lips. It was an intimate sort of cleaning, like a bear grooming its cub, and it made the lad shiver with excitement.

Then the adult kissed him, gently parting the runaway's lips with his tongue and probing the interior of his mouth. The orphan responded in utter wonder. He had never done this with Rich, and it felt almost as good as sucking cock!

They kissed for a long time. The man let him explore the insides of his mouth with his tongue and experiment with what his lips could do, from forceful, hard kisses to gentle pecks that stirred the hairs around the man's mouth in a way that he could tell was very pleasurable to the man. Then, without meaning to, he yawned against the man's mouth.

"You gettin' tired of me already, son?" he chuckled. The orphan was beginning to like the pleasant, happy way he talked. He could not remember ever hearing the Reverend Brown laugh.

"No, sir," he yawned again. "I like you and everything we've done and I'd sure like to do it all over again... "

"Okay, son," he said, kissing the tired youngster's forehead. "Maybe after we take a little nap to rest, eh?"

"Alright, sir," he answered sleepily, sliding off the man's chest and cuddling up against his side again.

"What's your name, son?" he asked, replacing the blanket and curling his strong right arm across the orphan's back as he had before, covering the plump round buttcheeks with one callused hand and stroking the tender flesh with gentle fingers.

"Andy," the runaway sighed in contentment, wiggling his ass slightly against the fingers just to increase the nice sensations he felt, "Andy Reames, sir."

"My name's Goodland Ormonde, but my friends call me Goody." His voice was a pleasant rumble in the darkness. "I hope we can be friends, Andy."

"I'd like that too, sir... Goody... " the youth managed just before sleep overcame him again.

At first, Jeff Symms did not know where he was or how long he had been standing at the spot where he found himself. It was as if consciousness had just begun for him there, at the top of a small bluff overlooking a strange and unknown land. Behind him, a friendly sun scintillated high in a clear blue sky, warming his back. Though he seemed to be alone, Jeff could feel a presence in the surrounding atmosphere that comforted him. It felt almost as if his lover Don were nearby.

"Hello again, my brother."

Jeff turned and recognized the man who had spoken.

"Xioga?! Where did you come from?"

"I have always been here, watching over you," he smiled, stepping closer to hug Jeff. Jeff hugged back, feeling a thrill of passion pulse through his naked body as it was pressed warmly against Xioga's.

"I too desire you, my brother," Xioga whispered, "but the time has come for you to remember those things you saw the last time we met."

"The shadow!" Jeff gasped, recalling his dream of a year and half earlier.

"Yes. And there are things you must witness here and now. Look, and do not fear. I and many others are with you."

Xioga released Jeff and stepped away. As Jeff looked into the distance, he could at once see that something was wrong. The rays of the sun that shone so ebulliently behind him could not penetrate far beyond the point where he stood. The light seemed stymied by an unnatural night that cloaked the vista spreading out before the cowboy.

Still, Jeff could see into that ebony vastness, in a vague way. Some sunlight managed to make its way into that benighted land, revealing a form that moved within the darkness, like some black fog that ebbed and flowed. It was a blackness within the blackness.

He was grateful for the imprecise nature of that second sight. For within the darkness, Jeff could just discern the outlines of some great, slavering beast, stalking the unnaturally night-darkened land. He could feel the wickedness of the ferine thing and did not want to see it at all. Unfortunately, it could see him.

The theroid creature lifted up a great, blunt snout and snorted disgustingly in Jeff's direction, trying to catch the man's scent, size him up. It paused for several heartbeats, staring at the man, before it cracked a wicked smile and winked evilly. For a second, one great orange eye glowed like a fire opal on ebon velvet.

'Does it know me?' Jeff thought, fighting back a little wave of panic. 'But how?'

A harsh voice, shocking in its familiarity, suddenly rasped in the air around him.

One hate, two in love, three bound by both...

Four might save one, but to overcome me, a world of help would be needed...

The devilish smile vanished as the beast opened its mouth, displaying rows of sharp, lethal teeth that phosphoresced in the gloom. Horror thrilled down his spine as Jeff thought he saw the awful thing coming closer to him. Then he realized the creature was growing.

The head expanded to fill the sky and from the gaping mouth came not animal growls but the sounds of gunshots, of whips striking flesh, of roaring flames, and a man's laughter, rising above the din. Jeff was spellbound by the vision.

But the worst came last. From out of the beast's mouth a horse leaped, crashing to the ground and running, running towards Jeff. It bucked and whinnied as it came closer, trying in vain to dislodge the burden it carried. The laughter grew hysterical as Jeff clearly saw the horrific thing that was lashed so cruelly to the horse's back...

....just before he lurched up from his blankets in shock, gasping a word aloud. Jeff's outburst echoed and re-echoed in the domed ceiling of the glyph-painted sanctum of the cave of mysteries, where Jeff had been dreaming. The coals in the central firepit were still glowing enough to show Jeff the naked form of Falling Star, who had risen from his blankets in another part of the cave to see what was disturbing his guest.

Jeff knew they were alone there. He had met another of the heron men who lived there, a white-haired elder named Xaculi, when they had eaten that evening. Xaculi had later left the cave to sleep in a nearby cabin that belonged to two other heron men, Sees Far and Nizano, who happened to be away.

The Elxa shaman sat by the firepit and threw in a few sticks as Jeff tore his eyes away from the older man's comely nakedness to glance towards the cavern's mouth. A few remote stars winked fitfully there. When the fire rekindled and came up to illuminate the intricate series of sigills and glyphs that decorated the walls, Falling Star looked at Jeff, a silent invitation. The man came and sat beside the shaman, who reached out and slowly caressed Jeff's bare shoulders.

"You spoke a word."

"Yes... " he replied uncertainly. "I was dreamin'... "

"Tell me what you saw."

Jeff repeated his experience, grateful for the knowledge in the hands that caressed and massaged his neck and shoulders while he spoke. When he reached the end, Jeff hesitated. The shaman prompted him.

"The word you spoke when your vision ended, do you know what it meant?"

"I... I don't know... I don't understand what it has to do with what I saw."

Falling Star paused a few moments before responding. In the intervening silence, Jeff could hear water dripping on stone somewhere deeper in the cave. Fleetingly, he wondered how long it had taken the running water to erode and hollow out the surrounding space.

"It is a name," the heron shaman began, snapping Jeff out of his brief reverie. "A nasty pejorative, a name the tribes that dwell to the east of the valley of the heron have given to a white man who has the soul of a devil. I won't bother to translate the word for you. The spirits who guide and protect the Elxa have spoken of him to some of our brothers in medicine dreams like yours. They call him Lyxtli, the wild mountain cat. The man's white name is Gibbe, Horace Gibbe. He owns much land, most of it in the south central part of Oregon, just to the east of the Cascades.

"Gibbe is a wealthy rancher, and he uses his wealth like a weapon against anyone who has anything he wants. And mostly what he wants is land. Time and again he has played the white men's government off against the native peoples of this region and taken those opportunities to expand his holdings at the expense of both.

"But he has been very sly. No one has been able to link him to any of the illegal things he has done. He has also terrorized white homesteaders off the lands they have tried to settle, because, as I understand it, cattle ranching and farming do not mix." Falling Star paused when he saw the look on Jeff's face, a mix of amazement and recognition. "What is wrong, my son?"

"That's why the beast looked at me like that, as if he knew me, and why its voice was familiar... " muttered Jeff. Then he took a breath and began to explain. "I know Horace Gibbe, I used to work for him on his spread, the Wildcat Ranch. I left in March of 1868, as soon as the passes were open to the coast, and went to the new town of Grant to look for work. I met Don there soon after my arrival and we fell in love... " Jeff paused as a longing for Don welled up within him.

"Why did you leave the Wildcat Ranch?" Falling Star asked quietly. Jeff went on.

"Horace was always a hard man to work for, and he hated men like us. I'd always had no problem bluffin' my way along with straight guys so it wasn't no hardship on me. Besides, because we only got to go to town once a week, there was an unspoken agreement among the ranchhands not to talk about anything they saw or heard after the lights went out in the bunkhouse, so I didn't lack for companionship at the Wildcat, despite how Horace felt about it. But then there was what happened durin' a huntin' trip we took in August of 1867."

"What happened on this hunting trip?"

"I and a couple of other guys went with him up into the Cascade foothills just to the east of your lands, but of course, none of us knew about that then. Nothing out of the ordinary happened until the second night out. I had this dream... "

Jeff described his meeting with Xioga and Coq'wima, and the rest of what he saw. The cowboy was a little surprised by how vivid the memories were, but Xioga had promised Jeff he would remember it when the time was right. By the intent way Falling Star followed his words, Jeff knew his dream held some important meaning to the Elxa shaman.

"...and after that, well, Horace started actin' stranger than usual."

"He changed?"

"Yeah. Horace went from bein' just an ordinary bastard to a guy who needed a little hangin'!" Jeff muttered. "After awhile, I decided not to put up with it anymore and to move on to greener pastures."

Falling Star stared into the firepit, considering Jeff's story. From what he had heard, it seemed Horace Gibbe was possessed by an evil spirit. That might explain the atrocities committed by the rancher, but it did not seem enough to warrant the many dire warnings he and his fellow Elxa had received about a threat coming from the east in medicine dreams. Were those warning visions truly inspired by Gibbe? If so, what was it about this man that so alarmed the spirits who protected the heron men? Jeff interrupted the shaman's troubled thoughts.

"Say, how did you come to know so much about him?"

"Last summer, I sent two of our brothers to scout the lands to the east and learn whatever they could. They discovered a ranch near Maury City, where the cowboys all shared our nature, organized by a core group who knew the legends of the Elxa and sought to imitate our ways. Since then, all of them have visited the valley of the heron and joined our tribe. One member of this group also used to work for Horace Gibbe and he freely shared what he knew about his former boss... "

"Oh?" ejaculated Jeff. "Who was it?"

"His name is Heck Denton."

"I knew him!" Jeff nodded. "Heck got tangled up with a teenager in Steens Station who said he loved Heck, until his papa found out what they were doing together. The father went loco, tried to have Heck hung for rape! Gibbe was more than ready to oblige when he heard, but Heck got away, despite bein' wounded in the process. I always hoped he had made good his escape!"

"He did," Falling Star went on. "And he has a good life and lover now."

"I'm really glad to hear that."

"I have also been in touch with the leaders of the native tribes in that area, who have suffered at Gibbe's hands. In those ways, I learned of Horace Gibbe. I suspect you saw his evil essence in your spirit vision."

"But how does it connect to the other thing I saw?" Jeff asked. "The horse and... and the thing it... it carried?" He shuddered, repulsed by the image he had seen.

"It is more evil that Gibbe has caused, no doubt."

Jeff nodded in agreement, not knowing what else to say, but looking concerned.

"Do not think of it," breathed the heron shaman. "If you will allow it, I will sleep here with you and my spirit guides will guard us... "

"Why sure," the man grinned sheepishly, his dark thoughts banished by the new, exciting possibilities he now contemplated. "But I doubt I'd get much sleep with you sharin' my blankets."

Falling Star indulgently returned his smile.

"I am older than you my son. And I know many ways to tire out frisky young rabbits!"

Luke woke up when his horse stopped. When he realized he had fallen asleep in the saddle, Luke looked about himself in alarm, scanning the dark, silent pine woods around him. But the men he rode with were still there, whispering among themselves somewhere ahead of him.

"The boy's dead tired," one voice was saying, sounding loud in the night's stillness. "Maybe we should stop and rest."

"Are we far enough away from town to chance it?"

"I think so."

"I can stand watch while you fellows get some sleep, if you want."

"I'm okay," Luke volunteered, joining in the conversation. "I can keep goin'."

"There's no sense in killin' ourselves, son," came a voice Luke recognized as Lou's from the darkness. "The chances of anyone coming after us tonight are pretty slim, I'd say."

"I agree," Bill added. "I think I remember a clearing up ahead where we can rest for a bit."

"All right," agreed Luke as the line of horses started moving again along the starlit trail.

Not very long after, they reached the clearing Bill had spoken of. One of them started a small fire while the others spread out their blankets. Lou invited Luke to share his and Bill's bedroll and Luke agreed before going off a ways into the surrounding woods to piss.

He grimaced as he worked his cock out of his jeans. It was already getting hard at the thought of his being sandwiched between the two handsome heron men. Luke concentrated on relaxing and eventually he was able to piss. Finishing, he buttoned up and turned to go.

Then a faint rustling sound came to Luke's ears. Turning, he looked behind him and caught sight of a vague shape with glittering orange-red eyes moving between the trees. His eyes widened with fear as he thought he recognized the kind of animal that shape belonged to, and he ran back to the fire.

"What's wrong?" Lou asked when he saw Luke's face.

"I saw a wolf!"

"Where?"

"Right over there!" Luke answered, pointing.

"Wait here," Bill ordered, walking out in the direction Luke had indicated.

"Is he crazy, going out there without drawin' his gun?" asked Tim.

"No," Lou began, "he isn't. Wolves don't normally travel solo. It might be something else."

"Huh? What else could it be?" Stu asked.

"When you were here last fall, did any of your guides tell you the legends of the Elxa?"

"Yes," Tim began. "Ho'va told us a few."

"Did he mention the spirit animals who protect the valley of the heron?"

"You mean the Spirit-Wolf and the Ghost-Bear? Yes, he told us about them."

"It sounds to me like Luke may have seen the Spirit-Wolf."

"Wait a sec!" Tim sputtered. "You mean they're real?!"

"Yes," Lou said matter-of-factly. "I'm seen them on several occasions myself. And we would never shoot at them. Falling Star has told us that they're our brothers."

The group turned to Bill as he returned to the camp.

"Was it... " Lou began to ask.

"Yes, it was the Spirit-Wolf."

"Why is it here?" the youngest member of the party asked.

"Well, Luke, my guess is that he's protectin' us," Bill began, unbuttoning his shirt and distracting the young man with the sight of the luscious looking pelt of fur that graced his torso, "so we can all get a few hours' worth of sleep in peace."

Before they bedded down, Bill pulled Lou aside. He wanted his heron brother to know about the conversation he had had with the Spirit-Wolf, reading the message the animal had scratched on the ground for Bill. It was to let Bill know the party was safe for the time being and that no one was pursuing the group.

As Eben listened to the heron men talking, he detected a faint, foul scent. His sensitive nose soon found a trail leading westward, towards the pass that only the Elxa knew of, leading into the valley of the heron. The spoor smelled like a horse and rider, but also somehow like death. It struck him as wrong and bad. Eben decided to follow the disturbing trail and find out who or what had left it.

The sun had not yet risen when Falling Star opened his eyes and rose quietly from the plush bed of wool blankets and buffalo robes he shared with Jeff. The white man sighed lightly in his sleep and turned towards the warm spot his companion had vacated. Jeff nestled deeper into the wide sheet of rabbit furs that underlaid the men, a sensuous softness that had added to the men's pleasures.

The heron shaman smiled gently at his bedmate, memories of the strong love they had shared earlier flickering sweetly through his brain. Falling Star spoke softly then over Jeff. He breathed the tribal name that the protective spirits of the Elxa had bestowed on the man, revealing it to Falling Star in his dreams.

"Black Horse, my brother... "

He lit a stone lamp and carried it to over to a particular spot on the surrounding stone wall. There he studied an image he had painted during the previous winter, of five figures pursued by one. With one finger the shaman traced the outlines of the drawing and nodded to himself solemnly. He had seen that image again in his dreams that night. And because of that, he knew there were preparations to make.

Andy woke up alone, finding himself wrapped carefully in the blankets of Goody's bedroll. He blinked at the bright morning sky, rubbed his eyes and sat up. He soon spotted Goody nearby, kneeling beside the campfire, working on getting it started again. Andy's eyes widened.

The man was still naked. The unexpected sight thrilled the youth. He had never before seen an adult without clothing and he found this one to be very good looking.

He studied Goody carefully in the sunlight. The man appeared to be of medium height, firmly muscled and his fair skin was mostly covered with a pelt of fine brown body fur. His eyes were a strange shade of green. As he worked to get the campfire rekindled, something in his eyes would occasionally flash, revealing an inner intensity.

His hair was shaggy and shoulder length, blending in with the long, light brown beard, beneath which his strange pendant hung. Andy's eyes fell lower and he wondered as looked at an adult male's equipment for the first time. Goody's genitals were darker-skinned and plump, swinging pendulously from a brown pubic bush. Andy could feel the desire to touch and taste them again welling up inside of him.

The lad hurriedly freed himself from the blankets. The rustling noises alerted Goody. He looked up in time to see Andy rush over and hug him wordlessly.

In the light, Goody saw a well-formed youth in his teens. Gray-green eyes shone brightly under a mop of auburn hair. The adolescent's crotch and armpits were marked by bushes of hair too, but those were brighter and more coppery, especially in the sunlight.

"Good morning to you too!" he grinned, hugging back, running his hands over the lad's smooth skin. "Let me get this fire started and we can have some breakfast."

The mention of food reminded Andy how long it had been since he had last eaten. The sudden look he gave Goody told the man how hungry his companion was. He motioned away from the campsite.

"There's a pond over yonder," he said, picking up a battered kettle and handing it to Andy. "Go fill this up for me, will you?"

"Yes sir!" the lad exclaimed, eager to please. Then he remembered what Goody had said last night about his friends and corrected himself, "I mean, yes, Goody."

Goody grinned, showing white, even teeth suddenly through his beard. Andy raced off, his heart pounding. When he found the pond, he knelt at its edge to fill the kettle. He was surprised to find the water was warm.

Putting the full kettle aside, Andy dived in, drinking great gulps of clear water and splashing himself clean. When he was done, he picked up the kettle and returned to camp. Goody was already manipulating a skillet over the fire, melting some fatback. Andy placed the kettle carefully in the spot it seemed to belong in over the fire, then sat down beside Goody and put an arm around the man, enjoying the feel of masculine, hairy skin under his roving fingers.

"Thanks, Andy." Goody grinned. "You're a big help."

"I can do a lot. I'm almost sixteen, you know."

"Really! Well, I honestly don't know how I managed all alone out here before you showed up."

"Are you lost?"

Goody roared with laughter, frightening a pair of jays in a nearby tree. They flew off, screaming hoarsely in vexation, fluttering blue fragments of sky seemingly trapped under the green canopy that overspread everything in that place.

"No, little guy, I'm not lost. Are you?"

"No."

"Where're you from?"

"I'd rather not say... " Andy hesitated, afraid of saying too much. Despite all that had happened so far, he was not quite ready to trust Goody with his whole story.

"Okay then," Goody reconsidered, scratching his beard. "Where're you goin'?"

"Away from where I was."

"Was it someplace bad?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're safe with me for the time being, so don't worry about anything... "

"That's like what the Indian said."

"What Indian?" Goody asked, starting with surprise.

"It was a dream, I'm sure, but it felt real," Andy said, shaking his head in uncertainty. "Anyway, after we played around and I fell back asleep, I saw you and an Indian talkin' together in this camp, and both of you had wings!"

"We did?" asked Goody. He wondered that Andy could have seen their spirit-wings.

"Yeah. They were all glittery and... " Andy paused, groping for the words to describe the beautiful pinions.

"What else did you see?" urged Goody.

"Well, like I said, you and he were talkin', but I couldn't really hear what he said to you. But then he turned to me and said, 'My brother, Carcajou, will take care of you from now on, little rabbit. He will teach you what you need to know to be happy and free and safe. And eventually, he will bring you before me to learn our ways.' Then he vanished and you hugged me and I felt real safe. I thought it was funny when he called you a carcajou. Do you have a brother who's an Indian, Goody? Uh... Goody?... "

Andy's voice trailed off when he saw the look of open-mouthed astonishment on Goody's face.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no," Goody managed, composing himself as he pretending to turn his attention back to the skillet and the biscuits cooking in it. "Do you think you could describe what this Indian you saw looked like?"

Andy said he would try and started. Goody found it harder and harder to work on their breakfast as he listened and recognized who the youth had seen. It had been the great heron shaman, Falling Star, or an Elxa spirit who had taken his form. As Goody had already guessed, Andy had experienced a medicine dream!

"What's a 'carcajou', Goody?" Andy asked after he had finished describing Falling Star.

"It's what some folks call a wolverine," he answered, continuing to feel wonder. Carcajou was Goody's tribal name.

The man turned out the biscuits and watched as Andy tore into them. There was also leftover rabbit from last night and some jerky and dried berries, all of which the teenager eagerly devoured. Goody's appetite had vanished once he had heard Andy's dream though. He drank some coffee and chewed thoughtfully on a biscuit until the youth's hunger was assuaged.

They went to the creek and washed the cookware and themselves. Goody and Andy played around in the water for awhile, until they were waterlogged. Goody then led the way to some rocks bathed in sunlight and they stretched out together to dry off. Andy wiggled up against Goody, unable to resist touching his new friend whenever he could.

"Andy?"

"Yes Goody?"

"I have to talk to you about something serious. Can we talk man to man for awhile?"

"Yes sir," Andy said, resigning himself to telling Goody everything.

"Good. Now, if I'm to help you, I have to know where you came from and why you're out here in this wilderness all alone. Your parents would be very upset with me if I didn't try to get you home... "

"I... I don't have any parents!" Andy cut him off. "I ran away from the orphanage 'cause I couldn't stand it there no more!"

"Oh. I'm sorry, Andy."

"Nobody ever wanted me, until I met you." Andy's voice got small and he pressed his face into Goody's side. "Do you want me Goody? Will you let me stay with you? I'll do anything you want, anything! Just don't send me back there... "

"Shhh.... " Goody hugged the boy. "It's okay, Andy, don't worry. Tell me why you ran away."

"It was awful there!" he began, looking at Goody. "The food was always bad and Reverend Brown would beat us all the time!"

"Why?"

"He said the Bible told him to."

"Oh. 'Spare the rod and spoil the child', I suppose." quoted Goody. "Was that all?"

"No. I had a friend, Rick, Rick Amersy. We... " Andy hid his face again.

"Tell me, son."

"We swore to be brothers, to share everything we had and always stick together. We would... play with each other, like you and I did last night, as often as we could."

"You loved him?"

"Yes. It really felt like he was my brother," Andy said in an almost-sob.

"What happened?" asked Goody gently.

"He got adopted. Rick tried to get the man to take me too, but he only wanted one boy. Reverend Brown whipped me for causin' trouble."

"So then you ran away."

"Well, I wasn't plannin' to, until I overheard what I did in his office, before he beat me. He made me wait there while he met with a doctor. The door was ajar and I heard them talkin' about givin' all the boys a 'special examination'. I listened hard and realized they were plannin' to... to... I can't remember the word now. But it meant they wanted to cut these off all the boys." Andy lifted his cock and stretched his foreskin away from the pink glans underneath to show Goody.

"You mean 'circumcise'?"

The heron man frowned as he asked that. Goody had heard of traveling doctors who went from county to county preaching the 'virtues' of circumcision to gullible parents and orphanage managers. Thank God his father had not listened to such tripe when he was younger!

"Yes, that's the word. Well, I wasn't goin' to stick around there and wait for them to cut off part of my dick! So I ran away that night, the night before last. I headed south, because I'd always heard how good California was. And then I ran into you."

"Did you hear them say why they wanted to circumcise the boys?"

"The doctor said it would stop us from... mas-something."

"Masturbating?"

"Yeah, that was it. What's 'masturbating', Goody?"

The man chuckled.

"It's a ten-dollar word that means the same thing as 'jerkin' off'!"

Andy was momentarily shocked speechless.

"I'm sure glad I got away from that place then!" he exclaimed once he had found his tongue again. "What would I do for fun if I couldn't jerk off?"

"Well, the doctor was wrong, Andy. Cutting that piece of skin off your cock wouldn't stop you from bein' able to jerk off. I've had lots of fun with guys who were 'cut', as some call it."

"What do they call guys like us?" Andy asked, reaching over to touch Goody's loose foreskin. The man suppressed a shudder as Andy's fingers slid the hood back so he could look at the wet, rose-colored cockhead that lay underneath.

"'Uncut'."

"Isn't it better to be uncut?"

"Well, I honestly don't know, Andy, but it is what men are naturally born with and I wouldn't want anyone to cut off my foreskin."

"Me neither. So, uh, you won't make me go back to the orphanage and get made into a cut guy?"

"Andy, I won't ever make you do anything you don't want to do."

"What about things I want to do?"

"Well, that depends. Is there something you want to do?"

"I wanna stay with you, Goody, forever."

"It seems that decision's already been made," Goody said, hugging the lad closer as he thought again of the medicine dream.

"What do you mean? Is that a yes?"

"Well, there's a few more things we've got to discuss, but, yes, I guess you're gonna be part of my family from now on."

"Your family?"

"My pop and my brother."

"Are they as nice as you?"

"They like the same things as me, if that's what you mean!" Goody grinned as he gave Andy a wink. "We work a mining claim we own near False Pass. Ever hear of that town?"

"No."

"Well, it's a good place. There's boys your age who live there you can be friends with. And you won't have to work in the mine if you don't want to. As a matter of fact, you could start off lookin' after my brother while pa and I work."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Gabe fell down a mineshaft and got himself pretty banged up," Goody explained, provoking a sympathetic look from Andy. Goody went on quickly. "But the doc tells us he oughta heal up okay in a couple of weeks or so."

"I'd be glad to help," Andy began. "I'd do anything if it kept me with you, Goody. Er... do you really think your pop wouldn't mind havin' me around?"

Goody chuckled, imagining how his pop's tongue would be hanging out when he met Andy. But he toned down his response. "I think pa would like to have another son, yes."

"So... we'd be brothers?"

"Sure. I know I'd like havin' another little brother. Gabe too."

Andy was too excited to speak. So he responded by kissing Goody as hard as he could. The man responded, but reluctantly had to break the kiss off.

"What's the matter?"

"I said we had more to discuss, Andy, and we ought to do it now."

"Okay."

"First, we hafta assume somebody's goin' to be lookin' for you, so we gotta have a story ready in case we run into people with questions. Now we don't look enough alike to claim to be brothers, so if anyone asks, I'm your cousin and you're my uncle's son, you got that?"

"Sure."

"Your parents died and my pa's your legal guardian."

"Okay."

"And you'll have to have a new name. We can keep callin' you Andy, since that's a common enough name, but you need a new last name."

"The same as yours?"

"Yep."

"What's your last name?"

"Ormonde."

"Andy Ormonde," Andy practiced. "Andy Ormonde! That's me!"

Goody grinned.

"Well, now that that's settled... "

But Andy prevented Goody from going on. The youth climbed on top of his new brother and kissed him, joyfully and forcefully, again and again, as he rubbed his swiftly hardening cock against Goody's furry belly. This time Goody did not try to stop Andy as he felt his desire rising to meet the lad's.

Horace Gibbe opened the door to his study. A long shaft of morning sunlight lay across his desk. It illuminated a piece of paper, placed so he could not miss it. The rancher picked it up and read.

Horace Gibbe:

The lands you have claimed to the west and the people who live there are under my protection. Do not go there, or you will die. This will be your only warning.

The note was signed with strange marks. After searching awhile in his library, Horace discovered the marks were letters of the Greek alphabet. As near as the rancher could make out, they spelled a name: Basil.

Horace then searched the house, but nothing else seemed to be disturbed. Then he ordered his men who were not looking for his son to search the ranch. No one found any sign of the intruder who left the note.

However, one of his workers, a half-breed, threw some light on the threatening note's strange signature. He informed Horace about the myths that his mother's tribe told about those marks: to them, it was the sign of an invincible demon who protected a mythical tribe of Indians, who lived somewhere in the Cascade mountains. Horace scoffed at the tall tale after the man had left his office. A vague legend was not about to come between the unscrupulous rancher and a valuable piece of land.

Sam stretched and yawned, rubbing deliberately against the smooth, dark body that lay warmly next to him. They were in the hayloft of the cabin near the cave of mysteries. The angle of the sunbeams that pierced the cracks in the wall told him it was still rather early.

"Good morning, Xonka-ra," his bedmate whispered in the tribal tongue.

"Good morning, Tolatil," he returned, falling easily into the same language.

"Your knowledge of our tongue is increasing. That is good."

"How soon will we know how Jake is doing?"

"Soon enough."

"I wonder what name Falling Star will give him."

"When he met us, he was shy, like the mouse. Perhaps that will be his name."

A mischievous grin spread across Sam's face.

"I wouldn't use the word 'mouse' to describe certain parts of him."

It was Tolatil's turn to smile.

"Ah. Perhaps he will be called 'Mouse-who-is-hung-like-a-horse'."

Sam could not help but laugh out loud at that. The sound filled the loft pleasantly, like the smell of their bodies. Sam inhaled the good, mingled scents, thought about the love he had made with Tolatil the night before and lowered himself towards his bedmate, ready to initiate another hours-long bout of passionate sharing...

"Tolatil! Xonka-ra! Come down! We have to talk," a voice they knew well called suddenly.

The naked men climbed down to find Falling Star waiting for them. As they sought out and donned their clothing, the heron shaman explained what they needed to do for him. Both men agreed at once and went to work.

Somewhere along lower Heron Creek, Heyoka opened his eyes to the new morning. He looked at the deep green waters flowing nearby, its slow current overridden by gentle ripples that played across the surface of the moving stream. He was alone.

But it had not been that way in the heron man's dreams. A number of spirit animals had shared his camp that night. He had seen the snarling carcajou amble past his campfire, in the company of a small rabbit that paused to sniff timidly at the corner of his blankets.

A mountain sheep, with huge, curling horns and fleece the color of dry straw had greeted him as it passed, traveling with a black horse. Two bears, one red and one black had also passed by, in the company of a red-furred wolf. A warm wind from the south ruffled their pelts lovingly as they went. A small yellow bird peered at Heyoka curiously with blue, human eyes from beneath the sheltering leaves of a dark green plant, covered with deep purple blossoms.

Looking around to see if more animals were coming, Heyoka spotted another. A great bird in the sky above, circling. Even from that distance, Heyoka recognized it.

"The Heron Spirit... " Heyoka whispered in awe.

Abruptly, the premier totem of the Elxa landed before Heyoka. Fixing its strange, glowing eyes on the man, eyes that looked like rotating balls of lavender flame, it folded its great dusty-blue wings and opened its long beak. But instead of the strange, hoarse call Heyoka expected to hear, the music of a flute flooded the campsite hauntingly.

"The song of the heron... " Heyoka murmured, recognizing the tune.

"Great things are about to happen, my brother," the Heron Spirit intoned. To Heyoka, the godling's voice continued to suggest music, specifically, the music of a vast concert of flutes.

"What will happen?" he whispered, not knowing or caring how a sleeping man could see and talk as if he were awake.

"Your brothers are coming. Look."

Heyoka looked downriver. The Heron Spirit had bestowed some strange magic on his eyes and distance no longer seemed to matter to them. He saw Qoloma loading a canoe, preparing to follow him up the river, as his friend had promised, and smiled at it.

Closer at hand, coming overland from the west, were two whites. Heyoka recognized one of them. The elder of the pair, a handsome, light brown haired man, was wearing an Elxa glyphstone. Heyoka smiled as he marked the man's face well.

"Carcajou," he murmured, remembering certain nights spent in the man's arms.

Then, a bit further west, beyond the traveling pair, Heyoka saw Chris Barlow and Robert Vaughn sleeping peacefully together in Chris' cabin, just outside the town of False Pass. Turning his eyes south, Heyoka saw Red Hand and Tasokah. They were making their way back to the valley of the heron, after carrying messages to the southern tribes from Falling Star.

Looking to the east, Heyoka saw five men camped on the eastern approaches to the sacred mountain, Zoraxte. He recognized only two, his heron brothers Il-Xochitl and Om-yomac. And he saw the Spirit-Wolf, crossing the nameless pass known only to the Elxa, returning to the valley of the heron.

"I am glad they are all well and soon will be with us again," Heyoka said to the godling.

"Wait here, my brother. Someone will come for you. Be at peace." As the Heron Spirit murmured those words it turned away.

Before Heyoka could respond, the vast trunk of an old tree nearby began to phosphoresce and glitter in a most unearthly way. Before Heyoka's wondering eyes, Hun Tzu impossibly stepped out of the midst of the wavering light and beckoned, guiding the Elxa godling through. They both vanished into the tree, which once again appeared to be no different than any of the other trees around it.

That was how the medicine dream had ended. Heyoka looked away from the river and his camp, once the home of Mayati before he moved to Heron Ranch to live with his lover, Hun Tzu, and into the dense forest beyond. He was unsurprised when he recognized the tree the Heron Spirit and Hun Tzu had vanished into. Getting up, Heyoka went to it and ran his hands across the wide, rough-barked bole curiously.

"I shall have to speak to Falling Star of this," the heron man murmured to himself.

Randy slowly returned to consciousness and groaned. He had been prodded into wakefulness by the expert blow job Will was giving him, rousing the sleeping man's cock to full erection long before his brain was active. Or had it been?

Randy tried to remember his rather odd dream, wondering if it had been sparked by the effect of sex on his unconscious mind. Or if he had experienced a medicine dream like his lover. The details were hazy at first, but came back as he concentrated, letting the delicious physical stimuli Will was providing slip into the background of his thoughts.

He had been standing naked upon an icy mountaintop, but was unaffected by the cold. Something - Randy could not tell what - was coming from the east. Like a stormfront, that advertises its approach with mutters of thunder, this thing was making noise. He heard confused shouts, weepings, curses, all too vague to hear clearly, but unmistakably threatening.

Then someone had called to him. Randy looked to see a native, apparently the same man his lover Jonathan had described seeing in his medicine dream, who Will and Silas called Falling Star, the chief shaman of the Elxa. The heron man beckoned to Randy from the entrance of a cave. Suddenly, Randy was there before him. Falling Star unfurled a pair of what Randy had been told were spirit-wings, shining in a sparklingly gorgeous way. The shaman touched Randy in the same manner Jonathan had spoke of, giving Randy a pair of wings of his own. Then, they entered the cavern.

Arabesques of native art covered the walls, in all shapes, sizes and colors. Some even moved as Randy looked at them, two dimensional figures sliding across uneven stone as they flexed and gyrated. His guide pointed two of them out. Randy noted them well as Falling Star spoke for the first time.

"This is the carcajou. See?"

Randy nodded and he went on.

"And this little one, here, that accompanies him, is a young rabbit, lost and frightened. Though he is young, our tribe's spirits have guided him to the carcajou and safety, for his spirit is the same as ours and he will grow into a man-lover. The carcajou will protect him as they journey to us."

Randy nodded again and the winged native smiled.

"Go in peace, Black Bear, my brother... "

'How did he know that?' Randy thought in amazement when he heard the secret name his lover Jonathan had bestowed on him, the one only they knew and used.

"...and abide in love with Red Bear, all the days of your life... "

'He knows the name I gave Jonathan! But I've never told anyone about that!'

No sooner had Randy finished that thought, he found his surroundings dissolved away, like fog in sunlight. Then Randy was pulled from one world into another by Will's expert tongue. Certain that he could remember the dream to tell the heron men later, he gave his full attention over to sex.

Reaching down to run his fingers through Will's long hair, he got a firm grip, being careful at the same time not to hurt his bedmate. He only wanted to take control of the action and Will, sensing this, relaxed and let Randy use his mouth as he willed. He licked and sucked on Randy's meaty prick as it thrust in and out, tickling his uvula, almost, but not quite, threatening to cut off his air supply.

After several minutes, Randy relaxed his hands and smoothed Will's long hair, stroking his shoulders and upper back. Will sensed his hesitation and lifted his face up from the black haired crotch to look at his bedmate. A glistening strand of spit still connected his mouth to the hard cock as he began to speak.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm better than 'okay'," Randy grinned. "Come up here."

The men cuddled and kissed for awhile, pressing their cocks together between their hairy bellies. The hard pricks drooled precum like broken faucets as they rubbed together. Randy finally whispered a suggestion in Will's ear, and the man grinned his assent.

Will reached to grab a small leather sack and hand it to Randy. The surveyor had been introduced to the slick wonder of the Elxa's special salve earlier and eagerly scooped a gob of fulvous goo from the bag as Will rolled over on his back. Randy got between Will's legs and lubed the trapper's manhole well before stroking his own rigid sex. He shivered at the tingling sensation he felt as the salve coated his most sensitive flesh. Randy stroked his cockhead slowly across Will's manhole teasingly, then abruptly pressed it in and through.

Groaning deeply as the meaty prick stretched his hole and filled his gut, Will writhed in pleasure as Randy started to fuck him. After a few minutes of the pounding rhythm, the surveyor lowered his head. His breath was a hot rasp in Will's ear.

"If it were up to me," Randy gasped, "I'd stay here just as long as I possibly could. But our partners will probably be comin' in here soon, lookin' for some breakfast, so... "

Curling downward, Randy managed to take the head of Will's cock in his mouth, while Will continued to stroke the shaft. Will's taste suddenly seared Randy's tongue as the muscles that gripped Randy's cock tightened with the spasms of Will's orgasm. Randy came then too. Will felt the familiar, delicious sensation of liquid warmth blooming deep within him as Randy filled his bedmate's gut with his hot seed.

They hugged and kissed awhile in the pleasant afterglow before finally getting up. After a quick trip outside, to piss and wash off in the pond, the pair returned to the cabin and started cooking. The smell of food being prepared drifted on the wind outside and had the effect they intended as Jonathan and Silas soon sauntered in and sat at the table, with their hair mussed and looking generally bedraggled. Randy shot a significant look at Will as both men noted their lovers' condition.

"You still plannin' on ridin' today?" Randy asked Silas he passed him and Jonathan steaming plates of eggs and home fries.

"Yep," he replied as he dug in.

"Need any paddin' for your saddle?"

Silas and Jonathan both glowered at the grinning, black-haired man.

"Get on with you, have some breakfast!" muttered Jonathan. "You didn't exactly lay in that bed with Will and twiddle your thumbs all night, if I know you!"

Some time later, as Silas climbed on top of his gray stallion, Jeb, and prepared to leave, he saw Will coming towards the corral. Will opened the gate and let Silas ride through. Silas paused while Will closed it again and came over to him.

"Be careful, pardner," he said quietly. "I don't know what's up, but if Jonathan's medicine dream is any indication, it's dangerous."

"Not to mention what Randy saw," returned Silas. Randy had related his medicine dream to the others over breakfast. Silas moved, opening the front of his greatcoat to show his lover the pistols he wore on his hips before he went on. "Don't worry, Will. I'll come back to you. I always do, don't I?"

"Yes, you always have... "

Silas leaned down and planted a fierce kiss on his man's lips. Will responded, reaching up to hold the back of Silas' neck, feeling the long crimson pony tail that snaked down. They separated, reluctantly, and Silas spurred off determinedly towards the south, following the well-beaten trail that led to Heron Ranch.

Early that same morning, Eric was back in the new world. He and Hun Tzu had been joined in the temporary camp by their neighbor, Job Byrd. Eric looked at the young man over the duck leg he was gnawing on and grinned to himself, thinking of the joke he and Hun Tzu had played on him.

Hun Tzu had called Job over to the oak that was the doorway, inducing him to strip before marking his body as he had Eric's the day before. When Job asked what the odd glyphs were for, a pair of arms shot out of the tree, enfolded Job and dragged the shocked heron man through the arcane portal in an instant.

Eric, also naked, carried his astonished friend to the camp and bore him down onto the blankets spread out there in preparation, covering Job with passionate kisses. Job was always willing to respond to the handsome redhead and soon he too was experiencing the empathic wonder of the spirit realm. In their lovemaking the heron men became as elemental beings, channeling the tidal ebb and flow of the oceans in the rhythmic movements of their loins and feeling the earthquake's echo in the shock of their orgasms.

Hun Tzu had joined them, but contented himself with sitting beside the coupling pair and stroking their moving bodies until they lay exhausted and panting from the love they had shared. Now they were sitting around a campfire, eating lunch and listening to Hun Tzu's plans. He wanted to go in search of the inhabitants of that dimension and Job eagerly agreed. He was excited by the possibility of finding his cousin Leroy. They were discussing ways they might signal one another, to keep in touch just in case. But that was all rendered moot when Job cleared his throat and nodded towards the edge of the crystal and marble ledge.

A man was sitting there. His approach had been so utterly silent he seemed to have appeared in the spot out of thin air. The stranger gazed at the surprised expressions of the heron men with pale gray eyes. They were the color of sun bleached slate, and glittered like the crystal shards at his sandaled feet.

His hair was a pale, almost colorless blond, long and loose, spilling down his back and across his shoulders like a mountain waterfall. It was kept out of his eyes by a wreath of lavender and white starflowers that encircled his head, a fragrant halo with tassels of woven shoots that hung down to caress his whiskered cheeks. His beard was trimmed and his upper lip was shaven.

He wore an odd leather garment, slit open down the sides like a poncho and bound at the waist by a broad belt. Beneath it he wore a loincloth and the skin of his body that showed was deeply tanned. A serious-looking dagger hung at his side. Its gilded hilt and scabbard were decorated with engravings of strange complexity, interwoven patterns unlike any the other men had ever seen before.

"He... hello," Eric managed.

The stranger cocked his head to one side and spoke.

"You are newcome, yes?"

"New here? Yes," Hun Tzu replied. "I discovered a way between this world and the world I come from, a world called Earth."

"I know," he smiled.

"But how... "

"You are not the first living men to find your way here. I and any other living men you may meet here also come from Earth, as do the spirits of our brothers who have lost their physical bodies. My name is Luuko."

"We're pleased to meet you," Eric managed at last, overcoming his surprise. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Thank you, I'll try some."

Luuko took the tin cup Eric offered and sipped the black liquid as the others introduced themselves. He paused to savor the taste, studying the three faces turned towards him as he did so. After a few moments he set the cup down and spoke again.

"You must have many questions."

"Yep, and we're glad you speak English," Job returned.

"I learned it from some of the other men here. We have men who came from England, and a few American men as well. So, where shall I begin?"

"You've only mentioned men," Eric pointed out. "Are their no women here?"

"None. Only men who love men can enter this plane of existence."

"Think of it," Hun Tzu breathed in wonder. "An entire world peopled only by men of our nature, like the valley of the heron. But there are spirits who were never human who live here too, right?"

"That is so. You have seen one."

"The thing that looked like a veil blown by the wind?" Eric asked.

"Yes, but that is only one of many shapes they take. It saw you and when it encountered me, it told me strangers were here. So I came to greet you." Luuko took a breath. "The spirits.... their... how can I say it so you will understand? Their energies are attracted to and resonate with ours, man-loving men like us. Our lovemaking nourishes them... "

"Just as it does in the valley of the heron," nodded Job. "Falling Star explained that to us."

"He is your leader?"

"Yes," Hun Tzu affirmed. "Has this place always existed?"

"Even the oldest of us do not know. It may have existed before humans did. From time to time ruins have been discovered here so curious that no one is sure what to make of them, much less believe that men could have been responsible for building them. Even the spirits have no idea how the ruins came to be.

"Some of our elders like to say this place arose from the dreams of man-loving men, and the gods took those dreams and made this world from them, setting it aside as a special place for the men who love men. Now their, or rather our, history is something I could tell you of, the tales of our tribe."

"Please do," Hun Tzu said, as his companions enthusiastically nodded in agreement.

"Shall I begin when the ice lay thick upon the world and humans lived in small tribes, each doing its own specialized job? Perhaps speak of the tribes of men whose spirits were the same as ours, the dancers, the drummers, the singers of healing songs, the midwives of the dying, who made the crossing over easy for those whose lives were spent? Shall I tell you tales of times even earlier, tales from the time before there was a moon in the sky?

"Or later perhaps, after the great winter ended? With the melting of the ice the tribes ceased to wander and men began to think of the land they settled upon as theirs, a possession be bartered or fought over. Ah, there was the true beginning of man's fall, my friends!

"But I will not speak of that, for surely you already know the stories. Only the stages and the names of the actors change in those tales. Since those times, history has repeated itself, the same greed-rooted reasons provoking war after war, and endless sufferings and hardships... "

"No, I shall tell you of the first ones, of how living men like us discovered the way to the place they knew the spirits of their dead comrades went. After the ice melted, the people did not immediately abandon the ways that had seen them through the frozen time. There continued to be a great respect for nature and the spirits that everyone knew attended all living things.

"Great forests sprang up across what had been barren tundra and before long trees, like all other living things, had their own coterie of worshippers. All along, you must remember, men like us lived their lives and loved openly. There was no discrimination. Thus it happened that some of us came to be numbered among the tree worshippers.

"Such a one was Ayuta, who was a leader in that cult, a 'priest' if you must. Although that term is much too narrow a label for Ayuta. He was a visionary, a deep thinker, who, we believe, was the first to discover what you did, Hun Tzu, that the powers of the earth which dowsers followed to find water or metals or game or whatever else was needed, could also be used for other purposes.

"Ayuta's ideas attracted a following about him, of other men who shared his nature. Together they labored many years, studying the subterranean energy currents of the Earth and how they interacted with the plants and trees. At last they found the rare, special trees that for several reasons, such as their age, the power spots they happen to grow over, and the direction of the Earth energies' flow at that site, form natural doorways leading into this world.

"With the ability to move from Earth to the spirit realm and back at will also came the power to travel great distances from one part of Earth to another by detouring through this world, via trees that were natural portals or others that had been 'opened' by Ayuta's craft. His followers became the first green men, the wild men of the woods that still haunt books of legend. For centuries they had their place in society, keeping the memories of the old ways alive and carrying messages rapidly between the scattered settlements. And their payment for this service, their tribute, were the men of our nature who were born on Earth... "

"Faeries... " Hun Tzu wondered. "I have read some of those old European tales, of the magical creatures who stole children... "

"A pale and warped echo of the truth, my friend. The green men took only fully grown men of our nature and, believe me, the chosen ones came gladly... in all senses of the word, I might add!"

His listeners chuckled at Luuko's word play and he went on.

"But all things change. Eventually the green men were forced to withdraw to the spirit world altogether as civilization and organized religion made living as they wished, free in the depths of the primaeval forests, impossible. Trees were felled to open land for farming and rival priests arose, claiming this god or that one as the only true god, while damning all the rest as abominable devils, inventing religious warfare. Still, the green men venture forth from time to time and rarely a man of our nature is found who is capable of throwing off the lies civilization has taught him so that he might join us here."

"Just as it is with the heron men," nodded Hun Tzu.

"If that happens so rarely, there must not be very many like you, who didn't have to die to get here."

Luuko smiled indulgently at Eric.

"How old do you think I am?"

Hun Tzu's expression suddenly brightened, as if yet another wonder had been revealed to him. Luuko noticed and warned him to keep still with a meaningful glance. Eric scratched his red beard thoughtfully before he voiced his opinion.

"You look to be not much older than my father - 40? 45, maybe?"

"You have had a taste of the joy this realm takes in your presence," Luuko noted. "Do you think it would harm you?"

"No, of course not. I can sense that, even without all the magical understanding you or Hun Tzu has."

"And do you think the spirit realm would allow any harm to befall you?"

"No... What do you mean? No disease?"

"None."

"No accidents?"

"Extremely rare, though they do happen. But never fatal."

Eric's eyes narrowed.

"Old age?"

"No." Luuko said simply.

"No... no death?" he whispered.

"Well," Luuko began, "it is said that living men like us can still die in the spirit realm. I have never seen it happen, though there are others here older than I and I have heard them speak of it. You see, if one lives in the spirit realm long enough, the aging process stops when a man reaches his physical peak, and in the case of those who are old when they come here, eventually they become again what they were in their prime.

"Ayuta was over seventy when he found his way to the spirit realm, long before recorded history began on Earth, but he is still with us, vital and handsome, looking no older than I, and, or so I've been told, quite a good sex partner! No doubt he will come himself to greet you and your friends when he hears of your arrival."

"A paradise men like us can enjoy in the flesh - forever," murmured Eric.

"Would you begin to age again if you came back to Earth?" Job asked.

"Yes, but a lengthy visit such as that would be unlikely. This is my home now. Earth is... our common origin, the mother who bore us. while this realm takes in Earth's orphans... "

"Orphans?"

"Yes, for lack of a better word," explained Luuko. "It has been many centuries since men like us have been accepted and respected for the talents our unique natures endow us with. The lucky few of our kind who survive the hatred and ridicule of 'normal' people to grow to adulthood with their sanity and freedom of spirit intact often attract the attention of the green men and eventually join us here."

"So... there are many like you here then," Eric concluded.

"A good number of us. But if the heron tribe is to join us soon en masse, it would be one of the greatest influx of newcomers since the time I first came here."

"And when was that?" Hun Tzu asked quietly.

"Almost two thousand years ago," Luuko purred, enjoying the way Hun Tzu's companions' jaws dropped as he spoke. "I was born in the land historians call ancient Gaul and was given up as a young child by my parents to be raised by Druids, the sacred order that ruled our land. It was a great honor, or so it was considered by my people. From that time on I lived in an encampment just outside one of the Druid's high temples and was groomed to one day take my place in the priesthood.

"But I was also gifted with a yen for manflesh which most of my teachers either feigned to ignore or winked at. I was never punished for it. Nor did I ever lack for willing bedmates, whom I took from among all the orders of the cult. Once I even had a visiting archpriest, a white-haired old theocrat who had come to our temple to give the acolytes a lecture on morality and proper conduct.

"Imagine my surprise when later that night he lured me to the guest chamber he had been installed in and assaulted me! Technically it wasn't rape. After all, as they say, you can't rape the willing! But he had shattered some of my youthful idealism and I called him a hypocrite. Little did I know this was exactly the kind of game he liked to play.

"At first he was content with verbal abuse, but before long he was begging me to punish him as he so richly deserved. So I caned his bottom well before I pretended to forgive him and let him have his way with me again. He seemed genuinely heartbroken when we parted. I think he would have taken me with him if it had been possible. My life would have been very different if he had, I'm sure."

Luuko paused to take another sip of his coffee. The heron men grinned at one other in their amusement at his story. It seemed that no matter what the time, place or religion, priests were more likely than not to be sexually unorthodox individuals. But when the green man resumed his tale, it was in a less jovial tone.

"I was not much older than your friend Job here when Julius Caesar and his legions came to our land, spreading fire and death. To 'civilize' Gaul meant to make it Roman, in every way. So Caesar ordered all Druids slaughtered, hoping by this indiscriminate massacre to stamp out the ruling theocracy that resistance fighters could rally around. I was one of the lucky few who escaped from a surprise attack on our temple encampment.

"I fled blindly into the woods and after hours of walking, collapsed from sheer exhaustion. When I awoke I was in the spirit realm. Knowing what was happening on Earth, the green men had crossed over and sought out all the male Druids of our nature that they could find in order to save them from the Roman slaughter.

"I think I ought to mention here that only green men who were brought to the spirit realm in their physical bodies can come and go to Earth at will. Those who came here after their death, well, it is rather difficult for them to do the same... "

"My cousin Leroy did it," Job interrupted. "He saved my life."

"I know. His feat is widely known and spoken of here. I am honored to meet you Job, and I am sure Leroy will come to you as soon as he hears of your coming.

"But to go on with my tale, in the spirit realm I found new teachers. I grew to maturity learning the ancient legends of our kind and the ways of the green men. From time to time I would cross back over to Earth, to see what had changed, but as the years passed and I came to appreciate the cyclical nature of human history, I usually found things distressingly the same whenever I cared to visit Earth."

"Has it been a long time since you last came to Earth?" Hun Tzu asked, as Luuko drank more coffee.

"Yes, many years."

"Perhaps you might care to visit us in the valley of the heron."

"Perhaps. But first I think you should learn more about the spirit realm before you invite more of your fellows to come here. I would be pleased to be your guide, if you wish."

In the pass known only to the heron men, the snow was almost gone from the rocky ground. But enough remained to show that a shod horse had recently come that way, headed into the valley of the heron. The Spirit-Wolf sniffed at the trail and caught the same foul odor he had been following

But there was more. Another predator's scent was there as well. The Spirit-Wolf's eyes narrowed in thought before he padded on through the pass, his paws crunching in the loose scree and wet snow as he followed the mixed spoor.

The sun was only a palm's width above the jagged eastern horizon when Mayati rode into the Heron Ranch settlement. Dismounting, he removed the blanket that had served as his saddle and let his bridleless horse wander off to join the small herd that was peacefully grazing within sight of Heron Creek. After a brief look around to check on things, he went to the cabin he shared with Hun Tzu. Everything was orderly and peaceful inside their home. The native spied a scrap of paper pinned under his lover's flute on the single table. He picked it up and read.

My beloved,

I have found something wonderful that I will show you as soon as we are together again. I have gone off with Eric and Job, but will return soon. I love you with all my heart.

He traced the exotic Chinese characters that Hun Tzu signed his note with, using one fingertip. And felt again the warmth of the love he shared with this man. Mayati carefully placed the note in a deerskin bag, along with a few other keepsakes.

He gazed at the bamboo flute for a moment, pensively. Then he picked up his own flute, made from the legbone of a deer, and went back outside. He seated himself upon a rock that gave him a splendid view of the rising sun and contemplated his name wryly. He was Mayati, Sings-to-the-dawn, and he would be what his name mean. Lifting his flute, he played, sending the song of the heron out to echo gently among the trees and across the murmuring waters of Heron Creek as the morning light strengthened.

Two travelers trekked eastwards through the woods of the Cascade foothills in the late morning light. They were following a very old trail. It was marked at odd intervals by standing stones which bore the curling glyph of the Elxa.

The elder of the two, a shaggy-headed brown-haired man, had a rifle slung over his shoulders. An auburn-haired teenager in patched broadcloth and worn boots followed happily along at his heels as he carried the elder's pack. He whistled happily, extremely glad to be alive and feeling as if nothing could ever go wrong in his life again.

"Goody?" he asked, as he stopped whistling his tune.

"Yes, Andy?"

"Where're we goin'?"

Goody pushed a sapling aside for the lad and answered with a question.

"Have you ever heard of the valley of the heron?"

"I'm not sure," he began, thinking. "Reverend Brown used to talk about bad people he called 'heron men', always sayin' they were sinful and awful and how we boys ought to be glad there were people like him around, protectin' us from such 'satanic degradation'."

"Hmm," Goody wordlessly replied.

He felt a little surprised and worried. Goody had not realized that knowledge of the Elxa tribe had become so general that its detractors were now citing it by name and using it to further their own agendas. It was something he would have to remember to tell Falling Star about.

"I thought he was just tryin' to scare us with fairy tales," Andy went on. "Do heron people really exist, Goody? Are they bad?"

Goody stopped and turned to his young companion.

"Do you think I'm bad, Andy?"

"Gosh no! You're the most wonderful guy I ever met!"

Goody tugged at the rawhide loop around his throat and showed the teenager his pendant.

"Have you ever seen this sign before?"

"No, I don't think I have. I noticed it the first time I saw you, though. And on some of the stones we've passed along this trail. What is it?"

"It's an Elxa glyphstone," Goody explained, "and the symbol etched on it is the sign of the heron. The men who wear it are members of the Elxa, an Indian tribe who have accepted some white men as members. I'm one of the 'heron men' your reverend was talking about."

"Really?! Why did the reverend lie and say you're bad?"

"You remember what we did last night?"

"Yeah," Andy sighed.

"Well, there are lots more people in the world than Reverend Brown who think what we did was wrong, terrible even, worse than murder! And they would like nothing better than to hurt the heron men, put them in prison, or kill them, for doin' what they like to do, the same things we did."

Andy was profoundly shocked when he heard what Goody said.

"Was it wrong?"

"What does your heart tell you about it, Andy?"

"That it was right, with my friend Rich and with you."

"That's because our spirits are the same, and want the same things," Goody nodded, resuming his journey.

"I don't understand. If we think it isn't wrong to do what we did, why should anyone else care?"

"Because they're scared of us, I believe."

"But why?"

"I don't know if I can explain it in a way you'd understand, Andy. But I'll try if you want me to."

"Okay."

"Well, you're old enough to realize how important money is to some people, aren't you?"

"Sure."

"Well, the way most people live, they think they have to have money and power and material goods to survive. And to get them, they have to fight other people. No one cooperates or shares, because people in power like Reverend Brown keep on tellin' folks that they can't live without doin' things like that.

"Now the Elxa on the other hand do live like that, cooperatin' and sharin' all we have, and we live well. If that were to become common knowledge, more people might start joinin' us, and stop listenin' to people like Reverend Brown, and those people would lose the power they have over others. They sure don't want that to happen, so they try everything they can think of to destroy us, or anyone else who can prove that cooperation makes a better way of livin' in the world."

Andy did not answer. Goody turned to glance at his companion and noted the thoughtful look on the lad's face. He went on after a few moments.

"We're goin' to see the chief of the Elxa tribe, an Indian named Falling Star. He's a very wise man and can answer your questions much better than I can, Andy."

About noontime, Silas reined in his great gray stallion, Jeb. He stopped before the cabin where Will's nephew, Eric Vaal, and his lover, Zeb Alden, lived. Though the scattering of horses and cows presented an archetypically bucolic scene as they grazed peacefully near the barn close by, something was bothering the red headed man as he looked around. It was as if things were a bit too quiet in the Heron Ranch community as he swung off his horse to go and push the unlocked front door open, going inside. Seeing that no one was home, Silas turned around and went back outside, almost colliding with Mayati.

"Whoa!" he ejaculated, before hugging his friend in greeting.

"Fire Wolf! What are you doing here?"

Quickly, he repeated the bad news he was carrying to Falling Star. Mayati listened, allowing a frown to cloud his features briefly. He responded as soon as Silas was done.

"I am the only one here at the moment," he confessed. "Will you break your journey and have something to eat with me?"

"Sure," Silas agreed, turning Jeb loose to graze before following the native to the firepit that lay near the banks of Heron Creek.

"I had good luck hunting today." As the brave said that he gestured easily, indicating the chunks of deermeat roasting over the fire.

"Sure looks like it," Silas agreed, inhaling the appetizing aroma rising from the cooking meat.

The white man's gaze rose to take in the wide pool that swirled just above the small waterfall nearby. After a moment's consideration, he started to take off his clothes. Mayati watched, smiling, as the handsome man bared his red-furred body to the sun. Giving the meat skewers all a turn, he unfastened his loincloth and followed Silas to the water.

Silas had already swam halfway across the pool when Mayati reached the bank, ready to follow his heron brother in. He hesitated though when he saw Silas floundering suddenly in the water, as if he were recoiling from something he had encountered. The white man turned around and swam quickly back to where Mayati stood.

"What is the matter?" he asked as Silas neared him.

"Look!"

Silas tossed something to Mayati. The native caught it deftly and looked to see what is was. It was a short stick, about six inches long, and the bark had been deliberately peeled from half its length.

"A danger stick!" he breathed, glancing upstream, "it is a warning from Falling Star." He glanced at Silas, standing naked and dripping in the shallows. "I shall make more and toss them in the creek, to make sure those downstream are alerted."

"To make double sure, I oughta ride to Roman Rock myself. My news for Falling Star can wait."

Mayati nodded gravely in agreement.

"I will wait here, so I can tell my neighbors the news when they return."

Tolatil sat alone in a small, isolated clearing. The shadows showed that the sun was just past its zenith. He was somewhere to the southeast of the cave of mysteries.

He was out scouting, looking for anything out of the ordinary. When he had come upon the clearing, he stopped to make a quick meal of some jerked meat and dried berries. He chewed slowly, thinking.

Tolatil was considering the things Falling Star had told him before he left the cave of mysteries early that morning. Of the terrible vision their visitor, Jeff Simms, or Black Horse, as his name among the Elxa was to be, had seen. And the warning the heron shaman had received from the spirits that guarded the valley of the heron.

Because of that warning, the heron man knew that his good friend, Il-Xochitl, would be back sooner than expected. And that enemies might be following his trail. Message sticks had been cut and dropped into Heron Creek to warn those downstream of the approaching danger, while Falling Star had sent Xonka-ra and Black Horse back to make sure their brothers understood what was happening.

He was about to take another bite when the sound of a low growl came to his ears. Tolatil froze, every sense straining outward. Slowly he turned his head.

A few yards away from where he sat stood one of the Elxa's supernatural protectors, the Spirit-Wolf. The reddish-brown furred animal gave another low, almost pleading sounding growl and stamped the ground with one forepaw. When Tolatil got up and went over to where the creature stood, he saw words scratched in the dirt.

'COME WITH ME'

Tolatil had heard that the Spirit-Wolf could communicate in that way, but had never seen it before. Nevertheless, he nodded and the Spirit-Wolf turned and darted off into the surrounding woods. The heron man picked up his rifle and followed the creature, noting how it kept looking back to make sure he was keeping up.

As they moved, the wind brought a foul odor to the man's nose. Tolatil recognized it immediately. It was the scent of death.

Even as he caught that awful odor, the terrible image of Black Horse's medicine vision flashed through Tolatil's mind again as he followed the Spirit-Wolf. It was a horrible, but not completely unexpected, sight that revealed itself before the heron man.

A dead horse lay amid a thicket of young pines. This was not astonishing to the native, considering the burden the animal carried. Lashed to the saddle was the corpse of a white man.

Both showed signs of being preyed upon. Tolatil pointed at the gaping wounds and made a questioning sign. The Spirit-Wolf fell to pawing at the ground.

'PUMA'

Tolatil looked around, gripping his gun, which moved his companion to write again.

'YOU ARE SAFE - CAT NOT AROUND NOW, BUT MAYBE COME BACK - I GUARD YOU WHILE YOU BURY MAN?'

Tolatil nodded and got to work, cutting the bonds that held the two corpses together. The thin strips of rawhide had cut deeply into the flesh and the heron man's lips curled in distaste as he realized they had been soaked in water before use. As they had dried they had shrunk, heaping cruelty upon cruelty.

As he pulled the corpse away, Tolatil took a good look at the man's face so he could describe it later. He also noted how the back of the man's tattered shirt was stiff with dried blood, the fabric and the flesh beneath it oddly split in long rents, the marks of a bullwhip. While Tolatil took the blanket from under the saddle and wrapped the body in it, the Spirit-Wolf had been busy digging. His great strength made it easy for him to excavate a hole in the rocky ground. Before long, the pair had the body covered with a sort of cairn of earth and rocks, that would keep it safe from being further devoured.

The native took a moment to look over their handiwork. Satisfied, he turned to the Spirit-Wolf. It sat nearby, watching.

"Perhaps it would be well," he began, addressing the animal, "if you went ahead to the cave of mysteries and warned Falling Star of this, if you can, for you are swift. I will follow as quickly as I can."

The Spirit-Wolf nodded its head and pawed at the ground again.

'KEEP YOUR RIFLE HANDY IN CASE THE PUMA COMES BACK'

Tolatil nodded. Seeing that, the Spirit-Wolf took off running, in the direction of Falling Star's home. Tolatil followed at his own pace.

" ...and that is how we do it."

Luuko had been explaining to Hun Tzu how the green men 'opened' trees, making them into portals between the spirit realm and earth. As the geomancer had surmised, it involved drawing the energy of the Earth, or the spirit world, up from the depths and channeling it through a suitable tree. Hun Tzu wanted to try his hand at doing it and Eric had a mischievous notion of where the new portal should open to. He explained his idea, but Hun Tzu looked doubtful once he had heard it.

"We would have to know where Zeb is first."

"But he has to be at the cave of mysteries by now. And there must be at least one suitable tree nearby."

"Yes, I believe I do remember seeing a tree near there that might serve our purpose."

"What kind of tree, Hun Tzu?" Luuko asked.

"A fir."

"Hmmmm... Like that one?" he pointed after looking around, indicating a nearby evergreen.

"I think so. Can I try to open a portal to it from that tree?"

"Of course. Go ahead and give it a try."

Jeff sat up suddenly, roused from a nap. He glanced about himself wide eyed in alarm, but saw only Zeb, looking at him from where he sat with grave eyes, as they both reclined against a log. Slowly the bigger man reached out to place an arm around his startled friend.

"The dream again?" he whispered.

Jeff nodded. Zeb frowned slightly, thinking back to the morning, when he and Tolatil had been told of the mystery by Falling Star. While Tolatil had gone out to scout, Jeff and Zeb had readied themselves to travel back to the heron men's settlements to the west.

They had ridden fast, but the sun was faster. At noon they had stopped to grab a bite to eat. When Jeff nodded off, Zeb let his friend sleep, knowing his vision quest had been a tiring ordeal.

"Why didn't you wake me?" asked Jeff, picking himself up. "We've got a job to do. The others have to be warned about Gibbe."

"You can't do anything properly if you're tired," Zeb answered, following Jeff to their horses. "Don't worry, the heron men have faced crises before and come through them all safely. And we have powerful allies. If that rancher Gibbe thinks he's gonna just prance in here and take all this," Zeb went on, swinging his arm to encompass what the men could see of the valley of the heron, "he'll find out in a hurry that he has more than just men to deal with!"

Falling Star had withdrawn to the depths of the cave of mysteries, to commune with his spirit guides. But even deep in his cavern home, he felt the touch of Eben's mind and knew something was wrong. He emerged from the mouth of the cave and looked around.

Everything seemed peaceful. He looked across the rocky field at the stone and timber building that served so many purposes. Close by it his scar faced sorrel horse grazed quietly, nose to nose with a stray mule that had wandered into his camp earlier that month and made itself at home. He wondered about Tolatil and turned to look in the direction his friend had gone to scout.

Falling Star saw Xaculi kneeling before a large wolf a little ways up the trail. By its red-brown fur he knew it to be Eben Hale in his werewolf form. He joined the elder and the animal turned to Falling Star, nuzzling the shaman's face in greeting.

Using his gift to read the minds of animals, Falling Star listened as Eben told him of his journey from Steens Station and of the strange, meandering trail he had followed across the mountain pass known only to the Elxa and what he had found at its end. When he finished the shaman rose and shared what Eben had told him with Xaculi. Together they went to prepare for Tolatil's return. By mutual consent, Eben left to go back and make sure the party he had originally been sent to look after was safe.

When Tolatil arrived, he found the heron elders both sitting before the entrance of the cave of mysteries, Falling Star smoking his long, ornate pipe tranquilly. He joined them and told them everything he had seen, as well as describing the man's face to them. Despite the warning they had been given by Eben, the pair had to stifle an urge to gasp at some the details Tolatil told them, a chilling fulfillment of Jeff's medicine dream. Both elders could see Tolatil had been affected by the grisly discovery.

"Are you alright, my brother?" asked Xaculi.

"Yes," Tolatil murmured, "I just wish I could have found the man sooner, before the mountain cat tore his body. With the Heart Call we could have revived him, but not after that."

"If there is too much damage to the body, the Heart Call cannot return life," nodded Xaculi.

"I do not understand why the spirits would show Black Horse something so hideous," Tolatil went on.

"You know what I have learned about Horace Gibbe," Falling Star replied quietly, smoke flowing from his mouth and nostrils as he spoke. "I believe he was responsible for what happened to that man."

"What then? Is Black Horse supposed to avenge this man, seek out Horace Gibbe and punish him for this crime?"

"No," Falling Star answered, turning his head to gaze into the surrounding forest, "not at all. Through Black Horse, our spirit friends warned us of this man's coming and of the danger Horace Gibbe poses. If there is more, they will... "

"What is it?"

Tolatil asked that a moment after the heron chieftain trailed off. He and Xaculi both were seeing a look they did not seen very often on Falling Star's face, an expression of surprise. The heron shaman's companions both turned at once to look at what had so amazed their friend.

It was Xaculi and Tolatil's turn to be mystified. A glittering, prefulgent glow was playing upon the trunk of a huge fir tree, a giant ringed about by a group of juvenile evergreens, which stood a dozen or so paces away from where the men stood, at the edge of the grassy, stone pocked field. Falling Star blew smoke towards the tree and the effulgent light that radiated from it. He softly muttered a few words of power.

"It is not dangerous, my brothers," he concluded after a few moments.

"But what is it?"

Xaculi fell silent as the strange light dimmed. To the watchers' general astonishment, three of their heron brothers emerged from the ovoid disk of radiance that adhered to the trunk. They were followed by a fourth, a blonde man who was a stranger to them.

"What magic is this?" gasped Tolatil.

"Have patience and I will explain," began Hun Tzu, "but first, I want you all to meet Luuko, a living man like us who now lives in what we know as the spirit realm."

"You are welcome here, Luuko," murmured Falling Star, recovering his composure.

"And I find your land fair, at first sight," Luuko began, casting a troubled glance at Tolatil, "but I sense something bad has happened here recently."

"Yes, one of our heron brothers had a medicine dream of death and I discovered its fulfillment." Tolatil began. He explained it to the newcomers.

Despite the disturbing news about the dead man and Horace Gibbe, Hun Tzu's discovery soon commanded everyone's full attention. Tolatil looked the handsome Luuko over in frank admiration as the green man gave a quick repetition of what he had told Hun Tzu, Eric and Job earlier. Eric felt a little put out at first to find Zeb had already left, but agreed to go back to the spirit realm when it was decided to do so.

Hun Tzu watched as Luuko took some bark from the fir and crumbled it, using the dark grit to paint a design on the foreheads and over the hearts of Falling Star, Xaculi and Tolatil. The marks differed from the ones Hun Tzu had used on Eric and Job, and were strangely like the curious interwoven designs that decorated Luuko's knife, but when he asked about them, Luuko assured the geomancer that they would have the same effect on his friends.

Then they all returned to the great fir tree nearby. The heron shaman watched as Hun Tzu and Eric went through first. Before the others followed, he turned to Job and Tolatil.

"There will be others coming here soon," he began. "Will you both stay here and wait for them, let them know what has happened? I will return as soon as I can to meet with them myself."

"Sure," Job answered for them both.

"Have you found my son yet?"

"I'm sorry, boss," Dick Horst said nervously, "I've had some men pokin' 'round town all night and into today, but... "

"Well, you get back out there and join 'em," Horace growled. "And don't come back here until you've found him!"

As the foreman hurriedly left the study, the elder Gibbe turned his attention back to a scrap of paper he had found in his son's room. There was a symbol drawn on it. Several times in fact, as if Luke had been practicing his writing.

The sign was vaguely spiral and stylized, somewhat similar to other Indian glyphs Horace had seen carved on rocks around his property. Though he was sure he had not seen this particular one before, it seemed strangely familiar to him. In fact, it aroused an intense, inexplicable revulsion within Horace, despite his ignorance of what it meant. It was as if a part of him understood and hated what the odd symbol stood for. He shook his head in perplexity as he vowed to find out why it was so important to Luke.

There was little for the two who were left at the cave of mysteries to do but wait. Job and Tolatil told each other their recent adventures as they reclined in the warmly sunlit meadow. As Job spoke, Tolatil glanced over at the nearby fir tree that was now an entryway into the spirit realm.

Tolatil was amazed at what Hun Tzu had discovered, or rather rediscovered. What the Elxa knew as the spirit realm was open to them now, a world seemingly created just for men like themselves. Job for his part was glad to hear his lover Bill was expected to return at any time, but grew thoughtful as he brought up a subject that had been bothering him of late.

"Tolatil, you love him too, don't you?"

"Yes, Long Lance, I do."

Job grinned when he heard his tribal name, before he went on.

"Then why... "

"...are we, Il-Xochitl and I, not together?" finished Tolatil, sighing.

"Yeah."

"When you first came to us, Falling Star was told by the spirits who guide our tribe that Il-Xochitl was to be your protector."

"Leroy told me that, too. But I just assumed Bill wanted to be with me. I love him, Tolatil, and I think he loves me... "

"He does. He cares about you, very much."

"But you love him too," Job said, looking troubled. "That musta been hard on you, to see us go off and live together."

"I have lived in the Way of the Heron longer than you, my young friend," began Tolatil, "and my beliefs give me comfort. Seeing the happiness you and Il-Xochitl have found together truly gladdens my heart. And Il-Xochitl and I are still close."

"But not as close as you coulda been, because of me," Job replied. "Say," he brightened, "I've got an idea! Why can't we do what Yakinoo, Zarokoa and Wiscoup'a did and all three of us live together as lovers? I like you a lot and I wouldn't mind sharin' Bill with you. What do you say?"

"That is indeed a lovely idea, Long Lance," Tolatil murmured, stroking the young man's shoulders. "I can see you are deepening into the mysteries of the Way of the Heron, to be so concerned for my personal happiness. But it may not be necessary. Listen and I will tell you something Falling Star has seen in his medicine visions, something that concerns myself and you, as well as Il-Xochitl."

Tolatil recounted the things the heron shaman had shared with him. That one of the new brothers who were journeying to join the tribe that year was fated to be Job's new lover. The young man heard this with surprise and mounting enthusiasm.

"Who will it be?"

"Falling Star said only that it would be one of the newcomers," answered Tolatil.

"When did you say they'd get here?"

Tolatil judged the angle of the sun before he responded.

"If what the Spirit-Wolf told Falling Star was accurate, they left Steens Station yesterday evening. I believe they must have stopped to rest during the night, otherwise they would have been here before now."

"Or mebbe something's happened to them," worried Job. "Mebbe we oughta go out and do some scoutin'!"

"The Spirit-Wolf is with them. And Falling Star asked us to wait here," Tolatil gently reminded his companion.

"I'm not sure I can just sit around and wait, after hearin' what you had to say."

"Perhaps I can find a way to distract you... "

Tolatil smiled the words as his hand slipped inside the open front of Job's shirt. He stirred the pale hairs that had begun to grow across the young man's chest and brushed his fingertips across Job's nipples. He felt the nubs of flesh swell and harden to sensitive points.

"Oh, yeah," Job sighed, leaning into Tolatil's arms.

The afternoon light filtered down through the trees, tinted green by the overarching leafy boughs. Alders and sugar pines crowded around an Elxa camp built at the point where an old trail crossed the Umpqua. Goody Ormonde lay on a blanket and gazed eastward across the murmuring green waters, to the continuation of the trail as it emerged from the far bank of the river and vanished into the woods beyond.

He had taken that path to travel to Heron Ranch not so long ago. But Goody also knew the river could take him to Roman Rock as well. He had found a canoe hidden under a heap of brush nearby. It would take him and Andy to where they wanted to go.

Turning his head, Goody looked at the wonderful landmark that dominated the camp. A great, dark, rounded boulder sat nearby, weighing perhaps a hundred tons. All across its curving surface were intricate Indian carvings, telling perhaps dozens and dozens of stories.

The talking stone, as the Elxa called the ancient monument, stood in a spot of marvelous natural beauty. A nameless tributary of the Umpqua, charged with the outflow of a nearby hot spring, tumbled over a low shelf of granite that jutted from the earth a stone's throw away from where Goody lay, producing a waterfall about thirty feet high. Goody and Andy had paused in their journey when they saw the sparkling pool that spread out so invitingly from the base of the falls. Goody smiled, remembering that this was the place where he had met Katchikoa and Ho'va, and first learned about the heron men.

They had rested and eaten on the grassy bank and then gone into the steaming water to rinse the sweat off their bodies. Andy was beginning to realize Goody was like no adult he had ever met. The man splashed and laughed and horsed around with him in the water as if he were a boy Andy's age. The lad wondered if all the men in the Elxa tribe were like Goody, and the thought of meeting Goody's heron brothers was enough to make him start feeling all tingly inside.

The sensation grew as they lay down to rest and dry off afterwards on a big blanket Goody spread out on the grass beside the pool. Soon, Andy's dick was rock hard and wanting attention again. But Goody just held and caressed and kissed the teenager, keeping him in a state of heightened horniness.

As he had the night before, Goody's fingers would brush across Andy's rear, making the lad squirm. Andy did not know why it felt so good to be touched down there, but it did, and he did not want Goody to stop. The man finally turned to Andy as his fingers slowly traced the crack of the youngster's ass.

"Andy?"

"Yes, Goody?"

"Would you like to learn another way that men can make love?

Andy was momentarily surprised to hear that there was more they could do together besides sucking cock or kissing. It was certainly proving to be a wondrous day of sexual firsts! He answered Goody quickly and eagerly.

"Sure, what do we do?" he asked as Goody got up and went to rummage in his pack.

"Well," the heron man began, as he returned to the blanket with a small, plump leather pouch, "I've noticed you like it when I touch your butt."

"Yes, I do."

"Well, I like it too. In fact, I like... er, you know what it means to fuck, don't you?"

"I've heard the older boys at the orphanage use it as a cuss word, but, no, I guess I don't know what it means, not really."

"Well, it means to take your hard cock and stick it in inside another man's asshole. Then you push and push until you come."

"Shoot my cock inside you?"

"Yes. It feels very good, both for you and for the man you're fuckin'."

"Do you like that?"

"Yes, very much. I was hopin' you might like to fuck me, Andy."

"You'll have to show me what to do, but yeah, sure!"

"Come around here between my legs then," Goody said, lying on his back and spreading his thighs.

Andy knelt between the man's muscular legs, eyeing the dark furred cleft that lay open before him. And the pink-brown, wrinkled bull's-eye of naked skin at its center. Goody opened the leather bag he retrieved earlier and scooped a small quantity of tawny goo from it.

"What's that?"

"It's a special grease my heron brothers make. It's a good salve to put on wounds, but it can be used this way, too. It'll make it easier for you to fuck me."

"So... we couldn't do this without that grease?"

"Well, there is another way to get my hole ready for your cock, but I can teach you about that way another time."

Andy wondered what the 'other way' was. It seemed Goody had a lot to teach him and he prayed nothing would happen to part them, as he had been parted from his best friend, Rick. He watched closely as Goody stroked the special grease into his furry cleft, flattening the curly hairs that grew there. Andy's eyes widened when he saw the man's thick fingers slip easily through his asshole, stretching it open and applying a coat of lube to the rosy flesh that lay behind the orifice.

Fascinated, Andy reached out to touch the slick, quivering hole. Goody held still, letting his adopted brother satisfy his curiosity. Andy pushed against the greased ring. He could feel firm muscles behind the puckered skin, but they gave easily, allowing two of his fingers to slip deep inside, causing Goody to sigh.

"It's hot in there," Andy muttered.

"Here," began Goody, reaching for Andy's cock with a glistening hand, "lemme put some of this on your cock."

"That feels good... " he purred as Goody's greasy fingers gripped his hard prick and palped it slowly, lubing it up.

"That's because there are juices from special herbs mixed into the salve."

"Now it's startin' to feel kinda tingly... still good though... "

"It's gonna feel a whole lot better soon, little brother," Goody smiled as he slid his backside closer to Andy. Then he helped guide the teenager's rigid cock to his sphincter, pressing the head against the puckered opening. "Now push."

Andy gasped as he obeyed and sank into what felt like a universe of hot, wet velvet, surrounding and squeezing his cock. But not like a fist or a mouth would. This was an incredible, boneless gripping that seemed to mold itself to his cock and stimulate every square inch of its sensitive surface.

Wanting to feel more, he impatiently plunged in as deep as he could, eliciting a groan of pleasure from Goody. He had expected this reaction from Andy and had made sure they were both well-lubed so no damage could be done. Andy ground his pubes against the darkly furred cleft as Goody reached to stroke his own hard cock. Soon Andy found a comfortable rhythm, hunching against Goody's butt with enthusiastic, quick strokes.

At length, Andy found he could lean forward and support his weight with his hands on Goody's firm, hairy pecs as he fucked the man. Goody showed Andy how to stroke and gently pinch the brown nipples buried in his chest fur, an act that Goody showed him could feel very good as he returned the favor, teasing Andy's pale nipples until they were erect nubs of rosy flesh. Sweat broke out on their bodies and began to drip and run as Andy continued to work, thrusting into Goody's ass with everything he had.

Goody continued to stroke his own cock, sometimes aiming it at Andy's face suggestively. Andy took the hint and bent down to take the cockhead in his mouth, trying not to break his fuck rhythm as he slurped noisily on the end of Goody's tool. To his surprise, the grease imparted a vaguely minty flavor to his friend's flesh. The sensations Andy was experiencing for the first time simultaneously in his mouth and his cock were just too good to hold onto for very long.

"Big brother... " Andy gasped out in his passion, letting Goody's cock fall from his mouth.

He started to come, feeling his hot spunk spraying deep within Goody's gut, adding to the already intense, delicious heat that gripped and caressed the entire length of his prick. As the spasms ended, Andy collapsed, moaning, to lay prone atop the man's hairy chest. Goody's hands came up to stroke Andy's sweaty back gently, while his still-hard cock made a noticeable lump in the otherwise comfortable bed his body provided for the spent lad.

"Oh, Goody... " he panted as his softening cock slipped out of the man's ass, "that felt... so good... "

"I enjoyed it too," he smilingly assured the lad. "You did very well for your first time."

"But you didn't cum," Andy said a little guiltily, feeling Goody's hard, hot cock pressing into his belly.

"It's okay, little brother. So, you think you like fuckin', Andy?"

"Oh, yeah! Thanks for showin' me how! You're the best big brother anyone could have, Goody! And I can't wait to do it to you again. And I want you to... "

Andy hesitated. Goody felt him tremble, as if he were afraid. The man hugged him and whispered.

"What?"

Andy didn't answer and Goody went on, nuzzling the lad's ear lovingly.

"I bet I know," he began. "Did you and your friend Rich ever play like this?"

"No, Goody, you're the first." Andy looked away and spoke quietly. "Could you... I mean, would you like to do the same thing to me? It's never been done to me, but I'd like it if you would... "

Goody reached over and turned Andy's head back so he could give him a long, gentle, tender kiss. Then he looked the lad in the eyes and spoke softly, solemnly.

"The first time... can be very painful. I don't want to hurt you, Andy. You're my little brother and I love you."

The teenager's voice caught as he replied.

"No one ever told me they loved me before, Goody."

"What about your friend, Rick?"

"Rick and I, we promised to be brothers, to always share what we had and stick together. We didn't have to talk about it, we knew we loved each other and felt it."

"It's that way for me and my pa and my brother, and my heron brothers, too. But it's nice to hear someone say it to you, isn't it?"

"Yeah. But I knew you loved me already."

"How?"

"No adult has ever treated me the way you have, or cared about how I felt."

Goody sighed.

"You know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right Andy?"

"Yes, Goody, but if someone has to be my first, I'd like it to be you."

Goody shuddered at the boy's words and hugged him close.

"Is something wrong, Goody?"

"No, Andy. It's just that when you're older, you'll realize what a special thing it is you're asking me to do. And what a responsibility it is. No one ever forgets their first time. It's very, very special, magical even. Because no other act of love ever feels quite the same, or as intense, afterwards. Are you sure you want it to be me?"

"You were the first man whose cock I sucked and whose cum I swallowed. You're the first man I ever kissed or fucked. Please, Goody," Andy went on earnestly, "finish the job. Be the first man to fuck my ass."

Goody shuddered again.

"Alright Andy, I'll try not to hurt you, but there's always some pain, the first time," he reminded him.

"I can stand it, as long as it's you."

"Alright then. Lay down on your back."

Andy did as he was asked and reached for the leather pouch. Goody stopped him.

"But don't we need the salve?"

"Remember the other way I mentioned of gettin' your ass ready for fuckin'?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd like to try it now. If it doesn't work, well, we'll still have the lube."

"Okay," Andy agreed as Goody got between his legs. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just relax. The more you relax, the less it'll hurt. Let me do all the work."

Goody spread the teenager's thighs. The light, reddish fuzz on Andy's balls and around his cock had not yet advanced down the skin of the perineum to the tight, pink hole beyond. Goody hawked and spat a big glob of saliva into the hairless vale, making Andy jump.

"Easy, Andy, relax," he cooed, as if he were speaking to a skittish colt, stroking the adolescent's thighs at the same time.

Lowering his head, Goody thrust out his tongue and tentatively licked the lad's sphincter. Andy tried to hold still, but the sensations moving across his asshole were incredibly delicious. His shudderings and his soft whimpers told Goody they were on the right path.

After a time, Goody was able to force the tip of his tongue through the tight, quivering pink orifice. Unable to get much more than that into the virgin hole, he began to push gobs of his spit through it, filling the interior space as much as he could with his saliva. Filling his palm with the runoff, he lubed his own cock at the same time.

"Well," he breathed, getting into position, "here we go."

Andy felt something blunt pressing into his wet bottom. As the pressure built, so did the pain. The youth's breathing became labored and he gritted his teeth as he looked into Goody's eyes.

"That's it Andy," the man grunted, "look at me. Push back with your butt muscles like you're takin' a dump. Concentrate on lettin' me in."

Andy tried as hard as he could, because he wanted to feel Goody inside of him and give him the same pleasure as he had given Andy. At that moment, he wanted that more than anything in the world. Andy did not know it then, but raging desire could do what all the lube in world could not. At last, the meaty cockhead sank past the outer gate and Andy smiled through the pain. Without letting up on the pressure, Goody smiled back.

"We're halfway there, little brother."

Andy began to feel what the man was talking about. There was something else within him blocking the progress of Goody's cock. It felt like another, inner ring of muscle, even tighter than the first. The pain began to build again, much worse than before, and Andy looked to Goody for reassurance.

"It's okay, Andy," he said through gritted teeth, "I'm about to pop your cherry... "

Goody kept pushing against the obstruction. Just when Andy thought he would not be able to take the pain much longer, he felt something give deep within his ass. He yelled out wordlessly at the sudden burst of stinging pain. At the same time, Goody let out a deep gasp as he sank his cock all the way into the teenager's wildly twitching ass.

Andy gasped too, feeling a nameless tingle building within him, almost, but not quite, masked by the pain. His arms ached from clinging to Goody, but he had no intention of letting go. The seconds seemed to pass like minutes, and the sensations of those moments seared themselves into his memory.

"There it is... I'm in... " the man grunted, breaking the silence.

Goody was trying his best to hold still. He wanted to give Andy a chance to get used to the hard fullness stretching his innards. But the searing heat of the virgin tightness spasming around his cock was almost enough by itself to push the man off the edge.

"You're the first... " the lad managed, tears in his eyes.

"Andy... "

Goody could not help himself. He started to move, thrusting himself into the newly opened ass, the constriction that convulsed violently around the intruder that had pierced it, instinctively trying to expel it. Andy felt the pain ebbing, being replaced by something else, something ineffable. But he kept his eyes on Goody.

"Don't stop... keep fuckin' me... "

But nothing could have stopped Goody by that point as he went for his orgasm. From deep hunchings that kept most of his cock buried inside Andy, Goody progressed to slower thrusts, drawing his prick almost completely out of the youngster and then slamming it back in. Andy writhed beneath his new big brother, feeling at last the pleasure Goody had promised.

The fullness moving within Andy was stimulating parts of his body the adolescent did not know he had. He felt something inside being pressed and rubbed by each stroke of Goody's manhood, making Andy gasp with pleasure. His cock rose to full erection once again and Andy gripped himself, jerking off with wild abandon. Within a few minutes, he was cumming again, spattering his belly and chest and face with his creamy seed.

When he came, Andy felt the muscles in his ass tightening, squeezing Goody's cock harder than ever before. Goody looked at Andy in a hopeless sort of way as his orgasm began. With a deep, guttural roar, the man came, fucking Andy wildly, sending pulse after pulse of scalding cum deep inside the youth. Andy felt it as a burst of intense heat, blooming within his body.

Goody kept himself propped above the lad on shaky arms, weakened by the force of his orgasm. Andy reached to pull his head down, so they could kiss. They did so for several minutes, until Goody's cock softened. Against Andy's will, the offended muscles in his rear end ejected the man's prick from the still tight, but no longer virgin, hole.

Without breaking their kiss, Goody managed to gather Andy into his arms, pick him up and wade into the pool. They gently washed the sweat off each other's bodies. Then they went back to the blanket.

They lay down to let the wind dry them off. After a little while, Goody turned Andy over and carefully examined his rear to make sure he had not hurt his little brother. He anointed the violated hole with some more of the special salve, gently stroking the cool, fulvous grease into Andy's sensitive skin.

"Oh... "

"What? Did I hurt you?" Goody asked in concern.

"No... It's just, well, that grease is makin' my skin tingle... it feels good... if you keep doing that, I think I'm goin' to get hard again... "

"I'd forgotten how horny boys your age can be," he chuckled. "But after what you just went through, you ought to rest."

"And I'll never forget it, or you. But I'm not tired. I want you to do it to me again! Please, Goody?"

"I'd like to Andy, but I'm tired. You have to let me rest. As we get older, we guys can't cum as often as we could when we were younger."

"Well," Andy thought, "can I fuck you again, soon?"

"Now that's different. Bein' on the bottom isn't as tirin' a chore," chuckled Goody.

He lay down beside the youngster and hugged him. As Andy wiggled in delight, rubbing his rapidly re-hardening prick against Goody, the man knew it would not be long before he would have to keep his promise. Afterwards he would insist they get on with their journey.

Lou was riding his horse the last few dozen yards towards the cave of mysteries. approaching it from the east. He kept looking around, hoping to catch sight of the Spirit-Wolf again. It had appeared to the group again on the trail earlier, but had only stayed a few moments, long enough perhaps for it to see that they were alright. Then it had turned and gone before them.

Distracted by the thought that the Spirit-Wolf might be waiting for them at the cave of mysteries, Lou did not immediately notice the rider ahead of him stopping short of their goal. But when he saw Bill had paused to dismount, Lou did the same. Walking his horse closer, Lou began to speak.

"Bill, what... "

"Shhhh!"

"What is it?" Lou asked in a lower voice.

"Look," whispered Bill.

Lou peered around a massive boulder of basalt that sat beside the trail. He knew that on the other side was the rocky field that lay before the entrance to the cave of mysteries. Lou scanned the area, seeing the stone and timber guest cabin first. Moving a little more, the whole of the field next to it came into view. Then Lou saw two men making love on a violet blanket spread out in the sunlight, their clothing scattered about on the ground around them, and smiled.

Lou looked over his shoulder, back up the trail. His fellow travelers were making their way slowly towards where he and Bill were standing beside their horses, not yet knowing what was up. Lou felt something being pressed into his hand and turned back.

"Hold my horse," Bill grinned.

"What... "

Lou took the reins and fell silent, enjoying the sight as Bill fell to stripping himself on the spot. Holding his clothes in a bundle under one arm, he slipped around the corner and padded up to the unsuspecting pair. They were too deep into their own pleasure to notice Bill's approach.

Tolatil had wedged himself between Job's wide-spread legs, the native's hips thrusting in an easy, voluptuous rhythm. Job's impressive manhood lay long on his belly as he stroked himself. When Bill reached the coupling men he put down his clothes and hugged Tolatil from behind.

"Well, well," Bill chortled as he kissed the Tolatil's cheek, "if it isn't two of my most favorite people!"

"Bill!" Job cried, reaching up to hug him, sandwiching Tolatil in the process, triggering both their orgasms.

Both Bill and Tolatil brought their lips to the tip of Job's spurting cock, kissing each other around the throbbing glans. Job gasped at the feel of two tongues stroking his erupting tool, batting it back and forth between them. As the taste of Job's creamy man-seed shocked Tolatil's senses, and the feel of Bill's chest hair prickled his back, the native thrust harder, filling Job's ass with his own spunk.

They stayed clasped tightly together until the last of the enraptured native's spasms had abated. Then they fell apart and rolled together on the brilliant blanket, laughing and kissing each other, happy to be in each other's company again. By then Lou and the three newcomers had come up and were watching the heron men's carefree nude frolicking in unconcealed amusement.

"I don't know whether to sketch them or join them!" Tim laughed.

"Who is that?" asked Luke, focusing on one of the three.

"Two of our heron brothers," Lou explained. "The native's name is Tolatil, and the blond man is Job Byrd."

"Job... " Luke murmured, looking at the younger man, who seemed to be of an age with himself, "he sure is a handsome cuss... "

Luke studied Job then, abruptly feeling a strange, but good feeling of warmth within him. The young man had blue eyes and his long hair and short beard were a strange, pale blond that sometimes seemed colorless in the right light. The effects of living in the valley of the heron for the past year had hardened his body. A pale pelt of blonde fur was spreading across his arms, legs and chest, down his belly, darkening as it flowed into his crotch, becoming a honey colored bush surrounding his cock and balls.

Luke's eyes widened when he saw Job's genitals. He had never seen a cock so big on a man before, and Job's leanly muscled body made it seem bigger than it really was. Luke felt a strange itch in his ass start up, the same one he felt whenever he knew Frank was getting ready to fuck him.

He wondered at the sudden feeling. At first, Luke thought he could not possibly take something that size inside of him. Then that thought was replaced by another, as just the idea of trying to take it made the warm and tingly sensation inside Luke grow stronger...

Asa Sykes lay on a blanket spread upon a grassy hillside near Roman Rock, listening as his lover strummed on a guitar. Asa had been visiting friends in the main Elxa settlement and his lover had only recently arrived to join him. They had gone off to spend the afternoon alone together, relaxing in the sunlight and making love when the mood struck them. As the naked men rested between bouts of passion, Zeke Barnet began to hum a little to the tune he was playing, then broke into a song.

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, a book of verse, and thou, Singing beside me in the wilderness...

Oh! The wilderness is become paradise enow...

"Big Otter taught you that, didn't he?" Asa murmured softly when Zeke finished.

"Yes," admitted Zeke. "He said it was an old poem, from ancient Persia. How'd you know?"

"It sounded like something he would sing. He's gone to Port Bolon to buy supplies, hasn't he?"

"Yes, with Dark Fire. They also wanted to see Mel and Larry... "

"Ah. Akapomac," Asa said thoughtfully, speaking Larry's tribal name. "Do you think he'll he return to us this year?"

"It'd be strange if he didn't," Zeke began. Then his eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. "Hey, why are you so interested in that guy?"

"He's a very handsome man," Asa answered, waxing poetic. "His hair is the color of ripe corn, and his eyes are as blue as the sky... "

Zeke's jaw dropped.

"Well, I swear... you're in love with him!"

Asa gave a low chuckle and looked slyly at Zeke.

"It's good to know you still care, my love."

Zeke snorted in vexation when he realized how easily he had been tricked into feeling jealous.

"I'll show you how much I care!"

As he growled those words he put the guitar aside and pushed Asa down onto the blanket. But his lover was not going to make it easy for him. Asa deftly flipped Zeke on his back and straddled his chest. Foreseeing what was coming, Zeke stopped resisting.

"I love you, Asa... "

Zeke's confession ended as Asa abruptly plugged his partner's open mouth with his hard cock.

"And I love you, Zeke, more than anything!"

Zeke relaxed and began sucking on his lover's tasty tool. He felt the head of Asa's dripping prick gliding across his tongue, leaving a gooey, intoxicating trail of cock juice, mixing warmly with his own spit. The sharp flavors smiting his taste buds ignited a feverish hunger in him for the full force of Asa's inevitable eruption of cum. Zeke imagined it filling his mouth and throat, its aroma filling his sinuses from the inside, making it the only savory sensation in the universe for him...

After a time, gasping for breath, Zeke pulled the hard, sticky cock from his mouth. He licked his way down to Asa's sweaty balls. His tongue danced as it lapped at the warm, wrinkled, hairy, salty flesh, and as he breathed in the manly aroma of Asa's ballsac deeply, he began to feel dizzy.

Asa's hands closed on either side of Zeke's head, cutting off the sounds of the outside world as he took control and guided the man's mouth back onto his aching cock. As Zeke closed his eyes and deep throated his lover's stiff prick, he was plunged into a world dominated by sexual sensation. The feel of cock flesh moving within his mouth, the taste of cock juices flowing across his writhing tongue, and the smell of Asa's crotch rising into his nostrils. Zeke fleetingly wondered if the Christian heaven could possibly have anything better to offer than this...

Lost in thought, Zeke was taken by surprise when Asa moved. His cock popped from Zeke's mouth noisily. It waved wetly and wildly in the air for the few seconds it took for Asa to slide back, maneuvering adroitly between his lover's thighs.

Zeke gasped as he felt the bulbous head of Asa's thick cock pressing eagerly and abruptly into his manhole, still slick with the heron men's special, tingling salve. He concentrated on relaxing as his lover's manhood forced its way without hesitation past the tight outer ring of muscle and deep into his gut. Asa's balls came to rest against Zeke's rear.

Asa was suspended over him, the muscles of his face taut, the skin radiant and slick with sweat. Then he began to move. He pounded into Zeke's ass with a passion, giving Zeke the sort of rough ride Asa knew his lover relished.

He was pumping Zeke hard. Zeke was delirious with the feel and the smell of it, the solid, moving presence between his legs, within him, filling him... Zeke's greatest joy was to hear Asa's little gasps and groans of pleasure as he pistoned his hips, proudly knowing he was pleasing a man, this man in particular, in a way that only another man like himself could understand and appreciate.

Asa could feel a strange, otherworldly calm overarch his consciousness. A new presence came to smile at him through the love he was bestowing on his partner. It felt like the spirit of his tribe, the Heron Spirit himself, blessing Asa's union with Zeke, and their loving connection with all of the other Elxa tribesmen...

And there was something else as well that both of them felt. A pleasure fundamental to manhood, an excitation as ancient as the land they lay upon. The rhythms of their lovemaking, of Zeke's heartbeat, of Asa's thrusts, of their labored breathing, all seemed to be synchronizing, producing sensations akin to something they had experienced during the times they participated in the ritual of the Heart Call.

It was as if musical notes were echoing sweetly through their bodies. It was not long before Zeke recognized the power of the song of the heron, using his enraptured soul to play itself, a sentient melody sending itself out to his brothers, to all man-loving-men, and touch their spirits with the power of the manly love he and Asa were generating.

The transcendental experience faded as a new, odd sound began and grew. Zeke half listened to its cadence through the haze of lust that fogged his brain. But soon enough it got through to him: the sound of horse's hooves pounding, getting closer...

"Asa ... " Zeke gasped between thrusts, "somebody's... coming... "

"Yes, my love... " Asa panted, "me... ahh... Ahh... AHH... "

Asa pulled out of Zeke's ass and his erupting cock squirted wildly, covering Zeke's finely furred torso with gouts of his liquid love. Each blast of his cum was punctuated with an unintelligible grunting cry that burst from somewhere deep in Asa's chest. Zeke scooped up a portion of the load and brought the hot savor to his lips. His tongue was instantly shocked with the musky taste he had been craving.

All the while, Zeke had been fisting his own cock and his lover's passion spurred him over the edge at last. Zeke's cock spat pearly ropes of thick goop that flew to adhere to Asa's belly. From there, Zeke's seed sagged and dribbled down, to mix with the mess Asa had made, all glistening together on his heaving torso in the bright sunlight.

Silas reined in Jeb when he spotted the two naked men, their bodies being wracked with the force of their orgasms and covered with the nacreous, liquid results. They collapsed on their blanket as Silas walked his gray stallion nearer. The two men wearily greeted him.

"Hi, Fire Wolf." panted Asa.

"Howdy!" Zeke gasped. "What brings you here?"

Quickly, Silas told them about the danger sticks that had been found in the stream at Heron Ranch, presumably sent downstream by Falling Star. He asked where Tlaccotan was and then took off after they pointed. Zeke and Asa dressed as quickly as they could and followed, to help their fellow tribesmen prepare a defense.

In the spirit realm, the heron men for whom it was their first visit stood distracted in the camp Hun Tzu had established. A pair of spirits the size of a man's fist, one a pink globe, the other a greenish cube, floated into the camp and seemed attracted to Xaculi. They frolicked around the surprised elder's feet, like two kittens chasing each other.

Falling Star was no less amazed as he felt the living spirit of that world welcoming him joyously. It greeted him in every green branch and nodding flower and refreshing breeze. He stood upon the outcrop of gray rock and prismatic crystal, scanning the forested horizon and the golden sunlit sky, intensely blue and flecked with small clouds in blank-minded wonder. Another spirit appeared, like the one Hun Tzu and Eric had seen earlier. Like a veil floating on the wind, it rippled and curled as it approached the camp, glowing with the intensity of a emerald in the sunlight.

"Falling Star?"

"Yes," he answered, turning to face Hun Tzu.

"I was thinking, there may be a faster way to warn our brothers about the danger posed by the man Gibbe."

"How?"

"I can open more trees, to other parts of the valley of the heron, and through them gather our brothers here in the spirit realm to plan our defense."

"A good plan," the shaman nodded in agreement. "And we must bring our brothers here as soon as possible in any case, so that they can experience this joy you have discovered."

"They what?"

"Disappeared." Tolatil told the astonished newcomers to the cave of mysteries, pointing. "Through that tree. Falling Star asked Job and I to wait here, because he knew you would be returning early."

"How did he know that?" asked Stu.

"Probably the same way you knew Luke needed help," Tim began. "By having a medicine dream."

"It sounds like the man you found was Frank Lusk, Luke's lover," Bill began in a low voice. For Tolatil, he added the horrific story he had heard in Steens Station, about how Horace Gibbe had horsewhipped Frank almost to death before tying him to his horse and driving it out into the Cascade wilderness. Tolatil listened solemnly, then told Bill and the others how the Spirit-Wolf had led him to the dead bodies of both man and horse.

"Maybe we shouldn't tell Luke yet about Frank," Lou said when Tolatil finished.

As Lou spoke, he looked away from the group he stood in. Luke was standing over beside the huge fir tree with Job, who was no doubt busy explaining how he and his companions had traveled between earth and the spirit realm. Bill nodded in agreement.

"Yes. That can wait until Falling Star returns. I can't imagine any way Horace Gibbe is going to find us anytime soon."

"Mayati!"

The native raised himself cautiously, looking to see who was calling to him. After Silas had left, Mayati had taken up a position on a rock that afforded an excellent view up and down the trail that passed through Heron Ranch, connecting Roman Rock, further downstream, with the cave of mysteries. The roughly cubic mass of pink granite stood a dozen feet or so high, perched on the south side of the pool that swirled above a small waterfall. Mayati had been sunning himself as he waited, but remained alert. His rifle was close at hand and he fingered it as he scanned those who approached him.

He relaxed as he recognized his neighbor, Zeb Alden, and the other man who rode with him, Jeff Simms, who had been invited to the valley of the heron by Falling Star. Shouldering his weapon, he climbed down to the level of the trail and waited for the pair to come up to him. Zeb swung down from his horse to give Mayati a hug.

"Are you both alright?" the native asked.

"Yes," answered Jeff. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"There were danger sticks in the river. Fire Wolf was here when we found them and he volunteered to go on to Roman Rock to make sure our brothers there received the warning."

"What was Silas doing here?" asked Zeb.

"He was going to see Falling Star. He had grave news concerning a man named Martin Porter, who has taken out a land claim embracing all the lands drained by Heron Creek. But a friend of his, a newcomer to the valley of the heron, had learned in a medicine dream that Porter was not responsible for this claim. He was acting as a front for another man. Unfortunately, he did not know who that man was."

"I do!" Jeff exclaimed. "Horace Gibbe!"

Quickly, Zeb explained the situation as they understood it to Mayati, who nodded and related all that Silas had told him. Zeb was shocked to hear someone else now owned the land he, his lover and friends had worked so hard on. Jeff noticed the smell of food cooking just before Mayati invited them to join him by the firepit.

Gobbets of venison were roasting over the fire, impaled on forked sticks thrust into the ground at an angle, so that the meat was suspended above the flames. The men found them to be done to a turn and sat down to eat. Jeff was a little surprised by how hungry he felt.

"So," Mayati began, "Falling Star thinks this man, Horace Gibbe, will soon be here in the valley of the heron?"

"Yes," said Zeb around a mouthful of food.

"He only knows what he saw in his dreams," Jeff added, "that Gibbe will follow the five who are coming."

"But I thought only two were coming, the men from the city of the Great White Father."

"So did we," said Zeb. "Perhaps Bill and Lou ran into another man who wishes to learn the Way of the Heron."

"Perhaps. Or maybe Gibbe has a score to settle with this fifth man, which is why he seeks for him."

"You are partly right."

The group turned to see who had spoken. To their surprise, they saw Falling Star coming up to their fire. Hun Tzu was with him and went to Mayati to hug and kiss his lover in greeting.

"How did you get here?" Zeb asked.

"Hun Tzu has discovered a great mystery," Falling Star said, sitting down and reaching for a skewer. "We can now travel from the cave of mysteries to Heron Ranch as easily as you might walk from your cabin to Mayati's. When we are done eating, we will show it to you all."

"How is this possible?" Mayati exclaimed to his lover.

"Listen and I will tell you, my love," began Hun Tzu.

Heyoka was dozing on a rock in the midst of Heron Creek when a faint sound came to his ears: water splashing, slapping rhythmically against... something. He opened one eye, looking downstream. A bark canoe was rounding a distant bend in the river.

He watched the vessel as it approached, ready to slip into the water and vanish into the surrounding woods if he failed to recognize the man who paddled it against the green current. But he relaxed when the canoe came near enough for him to see the sign of the Elxa painted on its side. He stood and showed himself.

The quiet slip-slap of the paddle in the placid green waters faltered for an instant, but regained its rhythm at once. The traveler had spotted Heyoka and recognized him. Wading to the shore near his camp, Heyoka waited there until the canoe scraped against the sandy bank and he helped pull it in.

"Greetings, Ho'va."

"Heyoka, my brother," the canoeist murmured. "How does it go with you?"

"Very well. Will you share my camp?"

"Thank you," the brave said, stepping carefully onto the shore. "I am returning from Port Bolon with supplies."

Heyoka eyed the bundles packed with care in the canoe. He detected a faint, acrid smell that could only have come from gunpowder. He looked at Ho'va.

"Ammunition?"

"Yes, lead shot for shotgun shells and casting bullets, as well as gunpowder. Tlaccotan asked for it. He thought supplies at Roman Rock were insufficient and... "

"And what?"

"He... had a medicine dream," Ho'va spoke in a low tone, even though there was no one else around to hear. "He saw a pack of hyaenas, enemies, coming to the valley of the heron, from the east. I and many others of us have had similar warnings of danger from that direction. Tlaccotan wanted to be prepared. But I fear it will take more than guns to fight this evil so many of us have sensed... "

"I too have dreamed... "

Ho'va's eyes widened.

"What have you seen?"

"Come. Rest and eat with me. Then I will tell you."

As they sat by the fire, Heyoka related his vision of the Heron Spirit to Ho'va. Ho'va suggested Heyoka join him and return to Roman Rock. But Heyoka reminded him of the end of his dream.

"The Heron Spirit told me to wait here."

"What did you say about the tree again?" Ho'va gasped, his attention drawn to the woods beyond the camp.

Instead of answering him, Heyoka turned to see what had distracted Ho'va. The tree he had seen in his vision had a strange glow playing across its wide trunk, just as he remembered seeing in his medicine dream. As the two men watched, transfixed, two others emerged from that shimmering light, as easily as through a doorway.

"Ah, Heyoka, Ho'va," Falling Star began, speaking to the stunned pair, "I felt you would be here."

"Where did you come from?" exclaimed Ho'va.

"And how?" Heyoka added.

"It would be easier to show you than tell you," Hun Tzu said.

After caching the supplies Ho'va had brought and hiding the canoes, Hun Tzu marked the pair and all four disappeared through the tree. No sooner had the uncanny glimmer ceased to play across the wide trunk than another canoe appeared in the creek. In a little while, the younger of the two men in it leapt out and pulled the craft onto the sand.

"Good job, Andy." Goody congratulated as he got out of the canoe and stretched.

"How far is it to Roman Rock?"

"Not far now," he answered, kneeling to study the ground.

"What is it?"

"Somebody was here recently."

"Oh?" said Andy, looking around. "I don't see anyone."

"This camp is the home of Heyoka, another of my heron brothers," Goody informed Andy as he went to the firepit. He could feel heat still radiating from the few coals left in it. Goody looked around again, wondering. "Andy, see if you can get this fire goin' again. We'll wait here awhile. Maybe Heyoka or whoever built this fire'll come back."

Later, as the coffee pot was steaming atop the rekindled fire, Andy looked at Goody. He was stretched out on the blankets they had spread before the fire. His eyes were shut but Andy knew he was still awake.

"Goody, I was wonderin' if you'd tell me something."

"Sure. What do you wanna know?"

"Would you tell me about your first time? You know, the first time you had sex like we did earlier?"

Goody smiled as his mind went back a few years, to when he had been about the same age as Andy. He explained to Andy how his father George had been working at a mine in Montana then, trying to provide for his sons by himself. Goody and his younger brother Gabe had lost their mother to a fever during the War Between the States. Since leaving Missouri at the end of that conflict, the three had moved around the west a lot, staying in one place only as long as their father could find work.

As Goody remembered it, Gabe had disappeared that day, leaving him alone to do the chores around the shack they lived in. He had dinner almost ready when his father, looking glum, came in. He sat at the table and buried his face in his hands.

"Are you okay pop?"

Goody was shocked when George looked up at him with tears in his eyes. He had only seen his father cry once, at his wife's funeral.

"The mine's shuttin' down, son. We gotta be movin' on again," George said, sounding miserable as he pulled a bright bandana from his rear pocket and wiped his face. "This ain't the kind of life you or your brother deserve. You must think I'm an awful father."

"Pop! No!" Goody exclaimed, coming over at once to hug his father. "I love you! And so does Gabe! As long as we stay together, everything'll be okay!"

"I love you too, son."

Goody felt the hard muscles of his father's arms as they came up his back and squeezed, pulling him into a hug that seated him in the man's lap. Goody started to kiss George the same gentle way he did Gabe when the brothers jerked off together. To his surprise, it seemed to have the same effect on his father as it did on Gabe. Goody could feel his father's cock growing and pressing against his bottom.

"Hm. My little boy's not so little anymore, is he?"

Before Goody could respond, his father got up and carried him into the back room where the man slept and laid him on the bed. Goody watched in awe as George stripped off his clothes. The man spoke to him as his hairy, work hardened body was exposed to the boy.

"I've been listenin' to the racket you and your brother have been makin' upstairs every night lately," George said, laying aside the last of his clothing and reaching to remove Goody's, "and I think it's time I got in on the fun, too! Tell me what you two have been doin' to each other, son."

Goody described what he and Gabe had discovered they could do. George laid down next to his eldest son and held him close, kissing him gently and fondling both their hard cocks as Goody kept talking. When Goody finished, George smiled.

"So you've sucked your brother's dick, eh? Do you think you like to try workin' on your old man's?"

George reached down and stroked his cock suggestively as he spoke. Goody's response was to go down on his father at once. George ran one hand over his son's bobbing head, tousling the light brown hair as he sighed.

"Yeah, that's good, son. Gabe probably doesn't know how damn lucky he is, gettin' this treatment every night. Say, where is Gabe anyway?"

"I don't know, pop," Goody paused in his task long enough to say.

"Did he do any chores around here today?"

"Unt-uuh," Goody managed around his dad's prick.

"Well, looks like I'm gonna hafta punish that boy," George considered, as he spat on his fingers and ran them along Goody's buttcrack, poking at the virgin hole within.

"Pop... what're you... " Goody began, rising off his dad's cock.

"I gonna show you a trick you and Gabe ain't discovered yet," George said as he flipped his son over on his back. The man's eyes were serious as he pushed his spit-slick manhood into position between the boy's legs. "Do you trust me, son?"

"Yes, pop, but what... "

"I'm gonna show you how to fuck," George said as his blunt cockhead pressed into the tight ring at the center of Goody's ass. "Just relax, son. Relax and let me in. Lemme have your cherry and I promise it'll feel like nothing you've ever felt before... "

And it had. Goody fell silent. He found it hard to describe the feelings, but Goody could remember every sweaty second of that act of love, as his father had gently and slowly opened him up and taken his virginity. Andy spoke up softly.

"It must have been as good as it was between you and me."

"Yeah. It was." Goody smiled and hugged Andy before going on.

" ...when Gabe comes back," his father had murmured afterwards, as they lay together in the lazy afterglow of their love, "I'll hold him down for you while you take his cherry. That'll teach him not to leave his brother alone to do all the chores around here!"

"Did you?"

"Yes I did, Andy. Gabe sure was surprised when he came home and found himself stripped and pinned on the bed, with pa's cock in his mouth and mine up his ass. Pa showed us how to do everything, that night... " Goody voice trailed off dreamily, as he thought of that wonderful night again.

"Do you still play with your pop like that?"

"Of course. And Gabe too. They'll play with you like that too, if you'd like... "

Andy snorted. "Why wouldn't I like that?!"

Goody reached over and gathered Andy into his arms. He whispered certain suggestions in the lad's ear as he kissed him, making Andy tremble with excitement. Soon they had shed their clothing and were lost in the touch and taste of one another...

"I'll see your twenty," Mel said evenly, "and raise you another twenty."

"Uh-oh," breathed Mark, "he's got something, boys."

"Or else he's bluffin'," added Larry, eyeing his partner suspiciously.

"Your turn, Phil," Mel said, trying his best to look entirely innocent, which was easy enough for the ex-churchman.

"What do I do to stop the game?" he asked.

"It's hard to believe you never learned this game," Larry muttered. "You see him and call."

"I'll see you and call then" the big trapper said to Mel, laying down his chips.

"Full house!" announced Mel in triumph, revealing his cards. "Aces and eights!"

"The dead man's hand," Mark commented.

"Come to papa," chortled Mel as he reached for the chips.

"Wait," Larry commanded. "What do you have, Phil?"

"I was wondering if anyone was going to ask."

Phil turned over a heart straight flush, nine through king. Mel's jaw dropped while Larry and Mark hooted and banged on the table. Phil reached out to claim his winnings.

"Beginner's luck," muttered Mel sourly as he picked up the cards and began to shuffle.

A knock at the door startled everyone there.

"Who could that be?" Larry blinked.

He got up to open the door. The others rose in astonishment when they saw Falling Star enter the cabin Mel and Larry called home near Port Bolon. Behind him came Hun Tzu.

"Please sit," the heron chieftain told his surprised brothers. "We have much news to tell you."

"Hey, they're back."

Luke looked up from the fire he had been helping to tend when Job spoke. He saw Bill and Tolatil emerging from a nearby ravine, carrying a deer tied to a pole they were shouldering. Lou went to help them skin and clean the carcass while Tim abandoned his sketch of the surrounding landscape. The artist flipped to a new page in his workbook and began a drawing of the men as they worked on their supper.

"Looks like we'll eat good," said Job, picking up a stick.

"What're you doin' there?" Luke asked.

"Whittlin' some skewers to cook the meat on. If you gotta knife, you can help me make a few."

Luke put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a jackknife. But instead of starting to work, he just looked at the blade. Job noticed.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Frank gave me this... "

'Damn!' Job thought. 'I thought I'd gotten his mind offa ol' Frank for the time bein', like the others wanted!'

"I'm sorry, Luke... "

"No. He's got to be dead by now. I just have to go on, be strong, like he would've wanted me to... "

Job could not take it anymore. He felt he had to tell Luke what he knew about Frank. Job was sure Luke would be further saddened, but at least, Job would be there to comfort Luke.

As Job and Luke had talked earlier, Job found himself thinking of what Tolatil had told him. Could Luke be the lover the spirits promised him? Just as Job opened his mouth to speak, Luke pointed at the massive fir tree that was the gateway Hun Tzu had opened to the spirit realm.

"Look!"

Job turned and saw a familiar swirling glitter that played on the surface of the tree, just before Eric and Luuko stepped through. Though they had been told what to expect, those who had not yet seen the phenomenon were astounded by it. Eric greeted his brother heron men and introduced Luuko.

"You are Luke?" Luuko asked when he met the young man.

"Yes, I'm Luke Gibbe," he answered.

"I think you should come with me, back to the spirit realm, now," Luuko said, beginning to mark Luke so that he would be able to pass between the worlds.

"Why?"

"There is someone there who is waiting for you," Luuko answered.

"Eric," whispered Job, taking him aside, "did you know the dead man Tolatil found earlier was Luke's lover, Frank Lusk?"

"Yes, Xaculi told me," Eric replied.

"Will you stay here with the others? I think I oughta go back with Luke."

Eric looked at Luke as Job made his request. Luke had opened his shirt to allow Luuko to draw a sinuous glyph over his heart with powdered bark from the fir tree, revealing a lean, muscular torso. It occurred to Eric that Job seemed to be quite protective of Luke and wondered if he was attracted to him. They were of an age...

"Eric?" Job asked, shattering his reverie.

"Oh! Sorry Job," he apologized. "Sure, I'll stay here until Falling Star returns. By the way, he's gone with Hun Tzu to open more trees in other parts of the valley of the heron in order to gather the tribe for a meeting in the spirit realm."

Tlaccotan walked alongside Heron Creek deep in thought, pondering what else he could do. He knew of Falling Star's visions, of a vague enemy coming from the east. He was sure the danger sticks and Silas' news about the attempt to patent the valley of the heron under someone else's name had something to do with those medicine dreams. He had arranged for the defense of Roman Rock, stationed lookouts and sent out scouts to reconnoiter. As he considered his defenses again, the heron elder looked up the trail that led to the cave of mysteries and stopped in uncertainty.

One of the trees along the path, an enormous willow, had an odd, mysterious light playing over its bark, like a sort of phosphorescent spirit-fire. Out of the midst of this strange scintillation emerged two men. Tlaccotan stood dumbfounded, recognizing his friends, Hun Tzu and Falling Star.

"No, my brother, you do not dream," the Elxa shaman said, seeing the look on Tlaccotan's face.

"How... "

"Come," Falling Star began, as he started towards the center of Roman Rock. "I will explain as we go, for there is much to do... "

A blonde man looked up from the book he was reading in his isolated cabin. His sharp ears had picked up the sound of an animal running through the forest, coming closer. He got up at once and went to the door, opening it and looking out. A few moments later a reddish-brown furred wolf burst from the forest and ran past him, through the open door.

"Eben, what are you doing?" he asked as the wolf transformed before his eyes, becoming the man he loved, his naked body enticing Zack to hug and kiss him.

"Zack, you have to come with me," Eben said between kisses. "The valley of the heron may be under attack!"

As Eben explained what Falling Star had told him, about Horace Gibbe and his land claims, Zack stripped off his clothing. Agreeing on a plan, to stay near Roman Rock in case they were needed, they transformed and left. Again a wolf darted from the cabin and off into the woods. Following at a lesser pace was an enormous, blonde furred bear, determined to see that none of his heron brothers were harmed.

But, very strangely, the pair found Roman Rock deserted when they reached it. The sensitive noses of the werebeasts found and followed a trail left by the men they knew lived there, but again, very oddly, the spoor ended at the base of a large willow tree, growing alongside Heron Creek. Not knowing what else to do, they concealed themselves and waited, hoping their friends would return.

"This is it, guys. The Devil's Pulpit."

Randy and Jonathan looked about themselves after Will spoke. They were quite impressed by what they saw. During a break in their surveying, the trapper had led the pair into what appeared from the outside to be a mere jumble of rough boulders. But old glyphs left carved on the stones marked a trail that snaked through the petrified chaos and brought their followers into a small wooded oasis.

"Wow," Jonathan managed. "This is beautiful!"

A few acres of grass and trees were ringed by a formidable rampart of stone, suggesting a castle courtyard. Will waded into the tall grass, startling a hare that took off at top speed. His companions followed.

"What a place to build a home!" Randy breathed. Jonathan's hand slipped into his and squeezed gently.

"I agree," he nodded.

Randy glanced at his partner and as their eyes met, an understanding flashed between them. There would be more to discuss, lots more, but at that moment a decision had been made. Both had felt the beauty of the place call out to them, welcome them. Welcome them home.

"What's that smell?" Jonathan asked, sniffing. An acrid, sulfury scent had come to him on the breeze.

Will stopped and pointed. The surveyors looked to see a natural pool, about twelve feet across, nestled between two enormous boulders and a huge myrtle tree that partly shaded the water. Steam was rising from the faintly troubled surface.

"A hot spring?" Randy marveled.

"Who's up for a soak?" asked Will as he began to unbutton his shirt.

"Sorry to interrupt your fun, pard," an unexpected, familiar voice began, causing all three to spin around.

"Silas! What... " Will stopped when he saw who was with his lover. Both Randy and Jonathan started, recognizing one of the men. He had appeared to them in their medicine dreams. "Falling Star? Hun Tzu? How did you all get here?"

"Hun Tzu found you with his geomancy," Silas explained. "And as to how we got here, well, it'll be easier to show you than tell you!"

"Yes," Falling Star agreed. "Come and see the great and joyous mystery our brother Hun Tzu has discovered. You too, my new brothers," he said, turning to the stunned surveyors. "The spirits of the Elxa have shown you to me in sacred dreams, and I welcome you to our brotherhood. But we must go now. Danger is coming... "

"Yes, I saw it in a dream!" Jonathan found his tongue. "An ugly beast! You were there, and you called it Lyxtli!"

"Lyxtli is a man," Silas informed them grimly. "His name's Horace Gibbe."

"Come, my brothers," the shaman urged. "We can discuss all this later, after we have shown you Hun Tzu's wondrous discovery."

Once again, Job felt the welcoming wonder of the spirit realm as it rejoiced in his return. But as it was Luke's first time there, he was so awe-struck that Job had to take his hand and guide him. They went to the outcrop of cracked marble and broken crystal, where a growing group of heron men and others, inhabitants of the spirit realm attracted by the newcomers' presence, were gathering. A few spirits had appeared as well, of various shapes and sizes, who for the most part circled the group of men slowly, as if on guard. Luuko brought them before a good looking man who appeared to be in his early forties.

"Job, Luke, this is Ayuta."

"The man you told us about?" Job asked as he offered his hand. "The man who discovered the way for living men to enter the spirit realm long ago?"

Ayuta looked oddly for a moment at Job's outstretched hand. Then he gave a little chuckle and took it. Seeing the look of puzzlement on Job's face, he began to explain.

"I am sorry, Job. This 'shaking hands' is not the custom among my people."

"What do you do?"

"I will show you," he said, hugging Job.

"We do this too," replied Job, hugging back. "I mean with my heron brothers."

"Heron men, faeries, green men, these are all just names. It is enough to know we all share the same spirit," Ayuta smiled.

"I hope we will welcome all of your brothers like this, soon," added Luuko.

"And you are Luke?" Ayuta asked as he turned to Job's companion.

"Yes."

"Welcome," Ayuta hugged him. "I asked Luuko to bring you here because there is someone who wishes to see you. Come."

"Who?"

Luke asked that as they left the crowd and headed into the nearby woods. Ayuta just smiled as he gestured towards a clearing where they could see a man sitting on a fallen log. Luke cried out in joy as he recognized him.

"Frank!"

Luke rushed to embrace his lover as Frank stood up. The older cowboy stroked Luke's back familiarly. He cooed comforting words in Luke's ear.

"Frank, how'd you get away... Hey," Luke realized his lover's back was unhurt, "your back, it ain't... "

Frank looked sadly at Ayuta, who nodded and stepped forward to place a hand on Luke's shoulder.

"Frank did not escape from your father, Luke."

"What do you mean? He's right here... "

"Yes, because he belongs here, where the spirits of all good man-loving men come... after they die."

"Frank?" Luke whispered, looking into his lover's eyes.

"My body was too hurt," he whispered back, hugging Luke. "I... passed on... "

"Oh, God... " Luke sobbed, hugging Frank to himself harder.

Ayuta took Job's hand and led him away, murmuring. "It will be alright, Job. You and Luke will still be lovers... "

"How... Did Falling Star tell you that?"

"No, I can see the love growing in you for Luke, and he too feels love for you, though he has not spoken of it yet. Give him time, Job. Young men like yourselves ought to have physical love, often."

"But, what about Frank?"

"Frank is a spirit now. That would not prevent him and Luke from being lovers, but as a spirit, he has responsibilities... "

"Huh?"

"Ayuta's tryin' to tell you we spirits have important jobs to do, not the least of which is protectin' crazy young cockhounds like you on Earth!"

Job looked at the pale blonde man who had joined them and gasped.

"Leroy!"

Job fell into his cousin's arms at once, experiencing a joy he had no words for.

Nick Jones tossed one final pitchfork full of fresh hay into the last of the row of stalls he had been cleaning at the stable he ran with his lovers, Felix Amante and Bo Jones, in the town of False Pass. Straightening up, the muscular man pulled a bright red bandanna out of his back pocket and ran it over his face, sighing heavily. A hand came down on his shoulder and stroked it gently.

"Tired, Nick?"

"Sure am, bro," he sighed, turning to look at his half brother, Bo, who had been dealing with the stalls on the opposite side of the stable. They were all clean and provided with a fresh bed of hay.

"How can I make you feel better?" Bo asked, kissing Nick's neck lightly.

Nick answered wordlessly. Putting his pitchfork aside, he turned and embraced Bo tightly, while kissing him long and hard. When the kiss ended, Nick whispered some suggestions in his brother's ear.

"I'll go over to the saloon and look for Alex," smiled Bo. "I'm sure he and Lo would both love to clean up us."

"I'll join you there in a minute, bro," Nick smiled as they parted.

As Bo headed for the Trail's End, Nick turned and walked out the back of the stable and through a corral where several horses were gathered around a pile of hay. Most of the men of False Pass boarded their horses there. Nick smiled to himself when he saw his horse, Splash.

The spotted mare was nibbling at the hay, her yearling colt close by her side. Nick had named the little dun colored stallion 'Well Met' in commemoration of his meeting with the town doctor, Cy Martin. Their mounts had mated while the men had done likewise during their first encounter, and Well Met was a memento of the occasion. The Doc's fine palomino stallion, Pasteur, stood nearby, looking every inch the proud father.

Nick passed them. The land behind the stable sloped gently down to the banks of the Clearwater river, within sight of its junction with the Umpqua. Nick strode down to the edge of the water and pulled out his cock. A heartfelt sigh escaped his lips as a yellow stream arced far out to fall into the running water.

Finishing, he shook himself, watching as the few last drops flew to join the stream. But before he could button up his pants, a movement caught his eye. He looked in amazement at a mysterious, effulgent light that was playing over the surface of a nearby tree, an old and enormous cottonwood.

The eldritch illumination did not look at all natural. It phosphoresced and glittered in an illogically dark manner, defying all the known laws of color and optics. Then, one after another, two men came out of the midst of the disturbance.

"What the... "

"Hello," the younger of the pair said, giving Nick and his exposed cock a look that told the amazed man he was dealing with another lover of men like himself. "I am Hun Tzu."

"I've heard of you," Nick returned, stuffing himself back in his pants. "Robert, our Sheriff, mentioned your name, after he returned from the valley of the heron last year."

"We are seeking Robert Vaughn," the other man said. "Can you take us to him?"

"Falling Star!" Nick exclaimed, recognizing the shaman. "Come... come with me. Robert's probably in the Trail's End."

Dave Judd looked up from his newspaper when he heard the door of his trading post open, admitting his new friend Gus Fanelay. He smiled a welcome at the big man, one of many newcomers to Steens Station. Thanks to his brawny physique, Gus quickly found work as a bouncer at Mazie's cathouse, and the madam was pleasantly surprised to find out the man knew his way around a piano as well, providing music for her establishment. Mazie was even more pleased when she perceived Gus was not the type of man who would take advantage of his position to harass her girls for sex.

It had not been long after that when Gus met Dave at a local saloon. They shared a bottle of whiskey and discovered they shared more than a few other things in common as well. Dave's mind immediately started to wander, recalling the fun the pair had had a couple of nights before. But once he saw the grim look on his friend's face, the reverie was stopped in its tracks.

"What's up, Gus?"

"Have you seen these yet?"

As the burly man asked that, he placed a piece of paper on the counter in front of Dave. The shopkeeper eyed the familiar, curling glyph printed on it in surprise. Then he read the words under it.

"Holy... I don't believe it!" he muttered in consternation.

"Gibbe's had them posted all over town," Gus informed him.

"Why?"

"He's convinced it has something to do with his son's disappearance. Look, he's posted a reward for information about that sign."

'How could Gibbe possibly have known?' thought Dave. Gus' eyes narrowed when he saw Dave's color change.

"It does have something to do with Luke, doesn't it?" he asked.

Dave licked his suddenly dry lips and tried to think of something to say, but Gus went on without waiting for an answer.

"I've seen that sign before and heard some of the stories told about it. But knowin' how Horace Gibbe feels about men like us... well, I'm not plannin' to step forward."

"I'm glad to hear that, Gus. Um... I guess I can trust you then not to repeat this, but I know a few of the men who wear this symbol, and they're good men. But people like Horace would never be able to see past how they live to realize that. He'd try to destroy them, just like he has everything else that's stood in his way."

"Why didn't you tell me before that you knew some heron men?" Gus breathed. "I thought it was just a beautiful legend... "

"Sit down and I'll tell you now," he grinned.

"Sure," said Gus as he pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. "I don't have to be back at Mazie's for awhile."

After Luke and Frank had a chance to talk for awhile, Ayuta asked Frank and Leroy to take a walk with him. As they left, Job went over to where Luke was sitting. Luke did not object when Job put an arm around him and held him in silence for a time, but Job uneasily noted the hard gleam in Luke's eyes as he looked at nothing.

Job was still trying to think of something to say when Luke spoke. The words were spoken so quietly that Job did not catch them. Job lowered his lips to Luke's ear.

"What did you say, my lo... "

Job caught himself. He had almost added the words 'my love'. But he was surprised by how right it would have felt to say those words. The visions of Falling Star had been right again, it seemed, as well as Ayuta's words: he did feel love for Luke growing in him...

"I said," Luke repeated, in a slightly louder, even voice, "that I'm gonna kill him."

"Who?" Job asked in alarm, his amorous train of thought abruptly derailed and wrecked.

"My father." Luke hissed, his face reflecting the murderous thoughts that roiled inside him.

Chris and Robert came to the Trail's End as soon as they heard who was waiting for them there. They pushed into the bar and found more than a few of their curious fellow citizens there. Almost all of the men in False Pass shared a yen for manflesh and most were members of the Elxa tribe though they chose not to live in the valley of the heron. So the chance for them to see the chief and premier shaman of their tribe in False Pass was an unusual event, one not to be missed.

The shaman and his younger companion, whose long hair, beard and oriental features made an oddly compelling combination, were seated at a table in a far corner of the saloon. Robert gave the curious onlookers a warning glare that told them to keep their distance before he and Chris joined the heron men. The others took the hint and kept Matt the bartender busy serving beer. Though more than one covertly watched the newcomers' reflections in the bar's wide mirror as they talked with the Sheriff and his deputy.

"Robert Vaughn, Chris Barlow," Falling Star murmured. "It is good to see you again."

"And you, grandfather," returned the Jefe, respectfully. "We are honored by your visit... "

"But you wonder why I have come."

"And how," Chris said. "Nick told us strange things... "

"Our handsome brother witnessed a discovery of Hun Tzu's, a new method of travel that we can use to make the miles between us seem as a little thing. But we can discuss that later. We need you to come with us, to a tribal gathering. Danger is coming... "

"Horace Gibbe?" Robert guessed.

"Yes."

"I've learned of the danger he poses to the Elxa. I was goin' to send you a message about it."

"What have you learned?"

"He beat us to the land office, Falling Star. Last summer he took out a claim on all the lands drained by Heron Creek, using a lawyer named Martin Porter as cover. I don't know if there's anything we can do to stop him... "

"Perhaps we do not have to do anything."

"What do you mean?"

"I was thinking of a vision given to Tolatil yesterday, a vision of the valley of the heron deserted, empty of all human life. I think I may know now what it means."

"What is the meaning?" Hun Tzu asked.

"Not here," said Falling Star, standing. "Let us go now. I will speak of this before the tribe when it is gathered together in the spirit realm, so that all may hear and consider."

"You say you know this sign?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Gibbe. I hunt in this area all the time," answered the man who had introduced himself as Billy Bob. His finger indicated a arc on a map spread out on the rancher's desk, embracing an area to the north of Horace's claim. Horace and his foreman, Dick Horst, looked on as the man pointed to the west of Steens Station. "And right about here, I stumbled onto a trail lined with stones, all marked in this way."

"Leading where?"

"To the west, into the mountains. I figure it must lead to a pass, mebbe about here," he pointed again.

"My Heron Creek land starts on the other side of that pass, if it exists," Horace Gibbe muttered. "Maybe it's time I rode over there and had a look at it."

"If I were you, sir," Billy Bob added a bit nervously, "I'd make sure I had plenty of firepower before you go there. Very strange things happen there... my cousin and I were threatened with death if we ever went there again."

"You'll be safe with me and the men I aim to take with me."

While Horace sent his foreman Dick to round up a couple of more riders to go with them, Billy Bob headed back to his horse. He saw Cletus haranguing the third member of their party. He rolled his eyes, wondering what the boy had done now.

"What's the matter this time?" he asked as he walked up to them.

"He's hungry again, Billy Bob," Cletus spat.

"Jesus Christ!" Billy Bob swore, "I didn't take you outa that orphanage so I could feed you every five minutes! Now get to work gettin' our horses ready to ride, you little peckerwood, or else I'll tan your hide again!"

"Where are we goin' now?" asked Cletus.

"We're gonna guide Horace to that trail we found."

"With those marks?! Don't you remember... "

"We'll have four other men with us, all well armed. If that damn Spirit-Wolf shows his furry face again, we'll fill his mangy hide full of lead! Besides, we're gettin' paid well for work this easy. So relax."

As Cletus' greed overcame his fear of the Spirit-Wolf, Rich Amersy grudgingly turned to his task, thinking some unprintable retorts he wanted to say, phrases mostly picked up from his new 'dads', Almost from the first day after Billy Bob had taken him from the orphanage, he had thought of nothing but escaping from the mean taskmaster and his ignorant sidekick. Rich had been worked like a donkey, he thought, and fed scarcely enough to keep body and soul together.

At least they left him alone at night to jerk off in peace. But even that had been joyless. Rich could not help but think of his best friend Andy and miss his touch, the feel of his tongue on his dick, the taste of his cum...

"Hey, shithead!" Cletus called. "Quit daydreamin' and get to work!"

Biting his tongue, Rich concentrated on his chore. Soon they were all saddled up and the rancher Billy Bob had come to see joined them, with three others. They rode off to the west, into the mountains.

"That bastard has to pay for what he did to Frank," Luke growled, unable to understand Job's objections to his plans for vengeance.

"Luke, if my friend Chris Barlow was here he'd tell you... "

"Tell Luke what?"

Job turned from remonstrating with his companion to see Chris coming towards them.

"How... "

"Robert and I just got here. Hun Tzu brought us over and then he and Falling Star left to round up some more heron men," Chris explained. "I came to tell you we'll be havin' a meetin' soon, so don't go far."

"I'm sorry, but I won't be able to make it," Luke began. "I'm leaving."

"Chris Barlow, this is Luke Gibbe. Luke, Chris."

"Why are you leavin'?" Chris asked as they shook hands.

"It's personal."

"If it has to do with Frank... "

"How do you know that?"

"Ayuta told me. He also said he sensed you were thinkin' of doin' something very foolish," Chris said quietly. Job knew he should not have been as surprised as Luke to hear that the elder knew what Luke was planning to do.

"My father killed Frank! He deserves to die!" Luke said bitterly.

"My best friend was killed because of another man's actions, and for awhile, I was all for killin' him too."

"Did you?"

"No. I realized before it was too late that killin' him would've made me as bad as he was. You're not your father, Luke, and you don't have to ride his trail, but you're headed that way already if you're thinkin' of usin' a gun to solve your problems."

"Listen to Chris," Job pleaded. "Don't get back in the mud with your father, stay with me. I don't want to lose you now, just when I've... "

Job hesitated. He had wanted to say 'just when I've found you'. But somehow it did not seem right to declare his love just then.

Luke gave Job a puzzled look. He liked Job, a lot, enough to hope they would get close. Frank had urged Luke to do so, telling him Job was a good man, but everything was happening so fast, it seemed. Luke shook his head as if that action could dispel the confusion he felt.

"I don't want to leave you, Job. But what about Frank? Don't I owe him something? I can't let my father get away with any more murders!"

"It's not your fault he's a killer," Chris pointed out. "And it not your place to punish him."

"Then who will?"

"How can you stand here in this place and ask a question like that?" asked Ayuta gently, suddenly near the three men, who started at his words. "Can you not feel the force that animates this place, its goodness, Luke? Do you think it cannot take care of itself and defend all the living things that dwell here?"

"No... "

"Then do not doubt that there are forces on Earth just as powerful as those here. Just because you cannot feel them on Earth does not mean they do not exist! And they will see to it that Horace Gibbe gets exactly what he deserves. Come now, my son," the elder said, taking Luke's hand gently. "Come and meet your true family, one that shares your spirit, and craves your loving touch."

The four returned to Hun Tzu's camp, which by that time was becoming rather crowded. They arrived in time to hear Tlaccotan suggest that all the heron men be brought over to the spirit realm, with scouts to be left near opened trees. The others agreed and moved to implement the plan.

Guided by Luuko, Jeff stepped from a tree just outside the town of Hayes, near a pond he knew well. He had intended to have the strangely garbed green man wait there while he went to collect his lover, Don. But there was no need.

To Jeff's surprise and delight, Don was nearby. He knew why Don had come to that place, a special place for both of them since it was where they had first met. He was lonely for his lover, or so it seemed, and Jeff moved to cure Don's blue mood.

After Don's predictable questions and Luuko's explanations, he asked if Hiram and Lars were also going with them. Jeff was a little chagrined when he realized he had forgotten his other friends in Hayes. But he soon went to them, told the skeptical men what was happening, and brought them to the tree. Luuko marked them and they all returned to the spirit realm.

Hard riding brought Horace Gibbe and his followers to the pass he suspected existed over the Cascade watershed, pleasing him no end. He happily calculated how much he could get out of the railroads for the right-of-way across his land as the mixed group pushed on along a well-marked trail until they came to a pair of isolated cabins on a small plateau overlooking Heron Creek. Horace ordered his men to search the area and bring anyone they found to him for questioning.

They paused long enough to satisfy themselves that no one was in the structures. Or in the strangely decorated cave nearby. Soon they resumed their ride, descending to the stream Horace believed was Heron Creek and following the trail along its bank that led westward.

As Dave Judd was talking with his friend, Gus, Bill Axford entered his store. After introductions were made, Bill told Dave he had come to return the horses his friends had borrowed. They were all back in Dave's stable, thanks to a detour through the spirit world to save time. The horses seemed to take the transition from Earth to there and back as if it were a routine event for them.

Dave showed Bill the fliers Horace Gibbe had posted around town. Bill thanked him for the news and promised to return later. He knew he had to let Falling Star know about it and returned quickly to the tree Hun Tzu had opened a discreet distance from Steens Station.

Gibbe's riders came upon another scattering of cabins on the edge of a vast mountain meadow. Horace looked at the unattended cattle and horses that grazed nearby with a covetous eye. It did not escape his attention that they were all branded with the same strange mark his son had doodled. After his men had conducted another fruitless search of the area, he pushed on down the well marked trail, wondering where the people who lived there were.

Daylight was failing as Goody beached his canoe at the riverbank near Roman Rock and hopped out to pull it up onto the sandy shore, next to several others. Andy clambered out and carried Goody's pack up the path that led from the landing. Goody went before him, eagerly looking forward to seeing his heron brothers again.

But as he neared the settlement, he noticed the silence and wondered. As he went towards the council hall, the deerskin draped across the entrance was pushed aside and a native he did not know came forth. The stranger regarded Goody with questioning eyes.

"I am Qoloma," he began. "A friend of Heyoka's."

"I'm Goody Ormonde," the white man returned, hugging Qoloma in greeting.

"I am glad to meet you."

"Same here," Goody said, as his young companion came up to where they were standing. "This is Andy... "

"Andy Ormonde!" the lad chirped proudly, hugging Qoloma as he had seen Goody do. "I'm Goody's brother."

"Then you are mine as well, young one," Qoloma smiled.

"Where is everyone?" Goody asked.

"I was hoping you could tell me," the brave answered, looking lost. "I arrived here perhaps an hour before you did, but have seen no one."

Goody looked around himself, at the empty tribal fane and the cold communal firepit.

"So there's just the three of us here?"

"It seems so. I'm not sure what to do. Heyoka invited me to visit him here, but I did not expect to find no one."

"Neither did I," Goody muttered, thinking. "Andy, see if you can get that fire goin' again so we can have some dinner. I'll go and combine a little scoutin' with some huntin' and see what I can find."

"Perhaps I should go with you," Qoloma began. "Will your little brother be alright here alone?"

"I'm not that little!" Andy exclaimed indignantly, feeling rather grown up after his adventures that day. "You two go on!"

As the men took their guns and headed away into the surrounding woods, Andy started working on the fire. He never noticed the glowing eyes that watched him covertly from not too far away. The Spirit-Wolf glanced at the Ghost-Bear and passed along a telepathic message. Agreeing silently, the Ghost-Bear moved away stealthily, to follow and protect the hunters, while the Spirit-Wolf stayed to keep an eye on Andy. Goody was the first heron man the werebeasts had seen since arriving at Roman Rock and they had not tried to reveal themselves to Qoloma, who was a stranger to them. But apparently, the men were just as ignorant as the spirit beasts about why the Elxa camp was deserted.

Jack Ramsey arose from the hole in the ground he had dug for himself at daybreak, frowning to himself in worry. He had not thought Horace Gibbe would go into the valley of the heron so soon, especially after the warning note Jack had left for the evil rancher. He hoped Basil would forgive him for forging his name to it, but until he returned, if ever, Jack was responsible for protecting the Elxa, just as Basil had been for over two hundred years previously.

Scanning the minds of the cowhands who had been left to tend to Gibbe's ranch, Jack selected the worst of the lot and drank his blood. With his supernatural strength renewed, the vampire took off towards the west. He ran, moving faster than human eyes could see, following the path he knew Horace Gibbe had taken.

When Jack reached the cave of mysteries, he was further unsettled by the lack of human minds to read. Jack paused only briefly to puzzle over the deserted state of the heron men's sacred site. Then he was off again, racing to the west. He found Heron Ranch likewise deserted and continued on at once to Roman Rock, thoroughly alarmed by the inexplicable turn of events.

"It's about time you got back," Andy said without looking towards the sounds he heard, of approaching feet somewhere behind him, crunching in the tall, dry grass. "I hope you've got something for me to cook."

"How about you, small fry?"

At the sound of a strange voice, Andy spun around. He was immediately grabbed by a familiar-looking man with bad teeth. Another man, obviously the one in charge by his arrogant bearing, looked at Andy, then around himself, taking in the deserted camp. At length, his steely eyes came back to the lad.

"What is this place?" he demanded. "Where is everyone?"

"Tell Mr. Gibbe what he wants to know, you little peckerwood!" the man holding Andy growled, giving him a rough shake for good measure. "Or by God I'll roast you over your own fire!"

"This place is called Roman Rock," Andy started, "but no one was here when I got here... "

"From the way you talked when we came up you were expecting somebody else," observed Gibbe. "Who else is here?"

"My brother, Goody, and an Indian, named Qo-something... "

"Hey," the man holding Andy said, looking more closely at him, "I know you! You're the orphan kid who wanted to go with your friend! You little liar, you ain't got no brother!"

"Andy?" another person spoke up. Andy started and looked, recognizing the voice.

"Shut up," Cletus bawled, slapping Rich.

"Rich! Let him alone!" Andy tried to jump towards where his friend stood with the men's horses, but Billy Bob kept a tight grip on him.

"Where do you think you're goin'?"

"Stop this," Horace commanded. "Where are those men, boy?"

"I don't know. They went to hunt... "

"Cletus, throw me a length of rope. I'll beat the truth outta this lyin' little sack of shit if I hafta... "

A red-brown blur burst from a nearby bush and leapt over Andy and Billy Bob both, striking the man full in the face with a hairy paw as it passed over him. Billy Bob fell backward into the fire. The blur raced away, disappearing into the night and easily avoiding the two ill-aimed bullets the others managed to fire at it.

Andy took off in the opposite direction as fast as he could go while Billy Bob flailed and screamed amid the flames. One of Gibbe's men, named Clem, scrambled to help him out. The rest held their guns ready but were uncertain where to point them.

"What the hell was that?" Dick Horst asked, looking bewildered.

"It's that damn wolf again!" Cletus cried, trying to point his gun in several directions at once.

"What?"

"It attacked Billy Bob and me twice while we were out huntin' a ways north of here!"

"Where's that little peckerwood!?" Billy Bob roared in anger as he beat the last embers out of his smoking clothes. As if in answer, a bush rustled nearby.

"Come outta there, you little... "

Billy Bob lunged at the bush as he spoke, reaching in to grasp Andy. But all he felt was plush fur. He had only an instant to realize his terrible mistake before the Spirit-Wolf grabbed ahold of his shirt sleeve in its jaws and started dragging the horrified villain deeper into the dense brush.

His frantic screams told the others where the wolf was, but they could not approach closely enough to help him, lest the wolf turn on them. Neither would they shoot for fear of hitting Billy Bob. There was no telling how long the standoff might have gone on, but it was abruptly broken by the sound of a great bellowing roar. Cletus blanched and shook with fear as he looked in the direction the sound came from.

"Lord have mercy! His friend is with him!"

"What are you talking about, you fool?" Horace demanded.

"The white bear! It was with the wolf the first time we saw them! They both protect the Injuns who live here!"

"How do you know that?!"

"The wolf told me!"

"A talking wolf? You're crazy!"

"No, he can write, tracing his words in the dirt... "

"Bullshit!" Horace spat, convinced Cletus was out of his mind. He recocked his rifle. "Dick, Clem!" he called to his hands. "Get over there and flush that damn wolf out so I can get a clean shot at him!"

"Dick?" Clem asked, looking around.

At first, Clem couldn't see Dick anywhere. Then he saw what looked like a shadow on the ground. Closer scrutiny revealed the foreman of the Wildcat Ranch, lying motionless. Before Clem could do or say anything to bring his companions' attention to Dick, another of Horace's harsh commands snapped Clem out of his surprise and back to the present.

Clem moved closer, drew and fired his guns into the darkness on either side of where Billy Bob continued to struggle and yell, hoping to spook the wolf and drive him out. Not knowing that, Billy Bob thrashed about all the harder, thinking he was going to be shot. Another roar of an obviously angry bear sounded again, nearer the camp.

"Boss, I think we should get outta here now!" Clem suggested.

"This land is mine!" Horace declared. "And no wolf, bear or human is going to run me off of it!"

At that, the wolf released Billy Bob. The man lurched backward, cradling his unhurt arm. Clem pointed his gun where he thought the wolf had been, shouting to Cletus to fire. There was no response. As he looked and noted a second body prone on the grass, something rushed past him, too fast for him to see and, as if by magic, his gun vanished from his hand.

One after another, the unseen force plucked the guns and rifles from Gibbe and Billy Bob as well, disarming them. The wolf returned, advancing on the defenseless men with a menacing growl. From the opposite side, the bear they had heard appeared as well, pale-furred and with glowing golden eyes. No one noticed when Rich was grabbed from where he stood, holding the reins of the group's horses, and carried away into the darkened woods.

A cold hand was clamped over Rich's mouth to prevent any outcry as he was brought swiftly away from the conflict. When the movement stopped, Rich saw a man with pale skin, black eyes and dark hair putting him down in the shelter of a patch of dense brush. There was fresh blood on his beard. The man looked away into the darkness.

"Andy," he whispered. "Come and stay with your friend until we've dealt with Gibbe and his men. Both of you keep your heads down and don't move until we tell you."

Then, inexplicably, the man was gone again in an instant. Rich rubbed his eyes in shocked disbelief, but found he could not puzzle for too long over what he had just seen as his lost friend Andy appeared. The youths fell into one another's arms joyously. Both had thought for sure that each would never see the other again.

Jack rushed back to the fane, not bothering to conceal himself any more. He grabbed Billy Bob and drained him of his blood before the shocked eyes of the two survivors. Then he tossed the corpse aside like so much garbage and informed the remaining men that he had done the same to Dick and Cletus.

Goody and Qoloma finally arrived on the scene, summoned by the sounds of gunshots as swiftly as their legs could carry them. They saw two strangers surrounded by the Elxa spirit-animals and a third man who was advancing on them, showing his bloody, animal-like fangs. Horace Gibbe fell to his knees and pleaded for mercy.

"Who... what are you?"

"I am Hunts-by-night," Jack growled like a wild beast. "I warned you what would happen if you came here!"

"No, don't kill me! I'll give the land back, I'll... "

Ignoring the vile rancher's pleas, the vampire grabbed the evil man's head and twisted it, breaking Gibbe's neck. A sound like that of a dry stick cracking split the air shockingly. As the body fell to the ground, Jack glared at Clem and pointed at the cowboy's horse.

"Leave the sacred lands of the Elxa!" he ordered. "Go and tell your friends that Hunts-by-night will kill anyone who comes here without an invitation! Go, and never come back!"

Clem did not have to be told twice. He hurriedly mounted and rode off, back the way he had come. Jack's mental powers followed him though. As he galloped away, Jack made sure the cowboy would forget what he knew about the route into the valley of the heron, so his warnings could not lead anyone else there.

The two newcomers watched all this in silent shock. Goody had heard of the spirit-animals, but had never seen them, and all he knew of Hunts-by-night was tribal legend. Qoloma however had no such knowledge and gripped his rifle in uncertainty as he eyed Jack and the dangerous looking beasts.

"No," Goody calmed him, putting a hand on his arm. "They are friends of the Elxa, our mighty protectors." He turned to the fanged man. "I think I've heard of you. Are you Hunts-by-night?"

"The demon of legend?" gasped Qoloma.

"A demon only to those who threaten the Elxa," Jack reassured him. Qoloma looked over the scene again.

"What has happened here?" the brave asked.

"That man," Jack began, pointing at Horace Gibbe's corpse, "was trying to expand his ranch to include the valley of the heron, and drive the Elxa from their home. I warned him to stay away, but he ignored my warning."

Suddenly Goody started and looked around. "Where's Andy?" he asked anxiously.

Jack looked in the direction of the hiding place he had left Andy and Rich together in. A mischievous smile spread across his face. Holding a finger to his lips, he led Goody and his native companion to the spot, while the spirit animals followed in curiosity.

Goody and Qoloma looked to see Andy and another teenager busily sucking one another off. Having blurted out their stories to each other, the boys had decided to make up for lost time. They had already brought each other off, but their joyous excitement at being together again was more than enough to keep their cocks stiff and wanting more attention.

"Who's this?" Goody smiled.

"Goody!" Andy said as he jumped up and hugged the man, "This is Rick! Can he come with us and be our brother too?"

"Sure," grinned Goody. "You two put your clothes on and come back to the fire. Don't worry about the spirit animals, they won't harm you," he said as he turned to Jack. "We all have a lot to talk about, I think."

Jack nodded. "Do you know where everyone is?" he asked.

"That was going to be our question to you!" Qoloma replied.

After the boys donned their clothing, the group decided to go to the nearby meeting lodge and discuss what had just happened, as well as the apparent complete and inexplicable disappearance of the Elxa. But as Jack glanced towards the fire burning in the midst of the Elxa's sacred fane, his heightened senses told him something was wrong. The werebeasts felt a similar sensation, a definite perception of an imminent magickal danger about to strike. Jack suddenly looked askance at the Spirit-Wolf.

"What!?" he muttered, after hearing the werewolf's mental warning.

"What's the matter?" asked Goody.

"The Spirit-Wolf says something strange is happening... Look!"

Jack pointed. The others' eyes followed and they gasped in surprise. An odd, dense reddish mist was pouring out of the open mouth of Horace Gibbe's corpse. The strange smoke did not dissipate, but rose to the height of a man and thickened as it formed a writhing, twisting column of scarlet smoke above the evil rancher's inert form.

"I have heard that the heron men commanded strange magicks!" breathed Qoloma, as the pillar of crimson fog moved a little way away from the corpse, while it continued to waver and change, taking on the distinct outlines of a human form. "But this... !"

"Eb... er... the Spirit-Wolf says it isn't Elxa magick," Jack began, looking at his friend as he read his frantic thoughts. "He recognizes the scent. It's a deadly enemy of the heron men, who kills without mercy. You and Goody must get away and take the boys to safety, now... " Jack paused and a puzzled look came across his face as he addressed the werewolf. "But you told me he was dead!"

"Oh, those two and Falling Star tried their very best to kill me!" a voice suddenly spoke, one familiar enough to send chills down Eben and Zack's spines.

The column of animated smoke gave one last twirl, darkened and contracted unnaturally. Suddenly a man stood before the fire. By its light the watching heron men saw his clothing was black as the night. And his face was the all-too-familiar visage of an Indian the Elxa thought had been long since destroyed.

"But they failed," the menacing newcomer went on. "And my vengeance upon the Elxa will be terrible!"

"Go, get the boys away from here, now!" Jack relayed the order from Eben to Goody and Qoloma as the ebon figure stretched one hand towards the fire.

Though his hand appeared to be empty, something, a mist or powder, yellowish in color, fell as if detaching itself from the stranger's hand into the firepit. At once there was a bursting flare of flame, a great gout of fire that arose, generating a mass of foul smelling vapors which roiled ominously above the firepit, but did not dissipate like normal smoke. Jack echoed the thoughts of the horrified werebeasts who watched as the unnatural fumes writhed and twisted, like a wild animal in a cage, waiting to be set free.

"How is this possible? They and Falling Star watched you die!"

"What they saw was the shedding of my weak, mortal form! My transformation into a veritable god!" the black clad man informed the stunned group. "At first, I could not control what I had become and I suppose I might have perished, my misty form blown and strewn by the winds across the wide world! Luckily for me, the breeze carried me into a camp of white hunters. I managed to infiltrate the body of one of them, Horace Gibbe, a man whose evil spirit made him a perfect habitat for myself. Without his knowing of my presence, I encouraged his evil deeds, whispering subconscious suggestions that he was more than eager to act upon. In the meantime, I came to comprehend what I had become and learn to control my new abilities."

"But who... " asked Goody as he and Qoloma moved towards the boys, shielding them with their bodies.

"Once again, I am Blood Wind!" the resurrected sorcerer cried out, stretching like one who has long endured cramped quarters. "And now, after months of huddling hidden within that paleface's body, marshalling all my magickal strengths, learning how to control this new body of mine, I live again!"

"But not for long!" Jack vowed, as he and his werebeast allies prepared to surround Blood Wind.

Before the supernatural allies could move, a shot rang out, then another. The two rifle rounds fired by Goody and Qoloma were on target and pierced Blood Wind's chest. All the onlookers could see the spray of something dark and misty erupting outwards as the projectiles passed clear through the reborn sorcerer's chest and exited his back. Then the spray seemed to turn and flow like liquid smoke through the air. It rejoined the dark shaman's body as the ordinarily fatal wounds healed before their stunned eyes.

"Elxa Fools! Nothing can harm me now! My body is a living mist, my medicine powders a part of me that I can summon at will! The forces I serve have promised me no living creature will be able to kill me! I am immortal, invincible! And you are all helpless before my power!" The evil sorcerer turned to the roiling, malodorous cloud he had created and addressed it. "Bind them!" he ordered.

The angry looking cloud that hovered and tumbled in the air above Blood Wind abruptly split like an ameba into seven parts. Each flowed to wrap itself dexterously around Jack, Eben, Zack, Andy, Rich, Goody and Qoloma. The seven found themselves bound by wispy restraints, seemingly insubstantial, but too strong for even Jack's enormous strength to break free from. Blood Wind came closer to his desperately struggling captives.

"So much for the legendary, great and powerful Hunts-by-night!" Blood Wind gloated. "Even your enormous abilities are as nothing compared to my own!" Blood Wind paused and looked about himself curiously, taking in the darkened and deserted state of Roman Rock. "Where are your fellow tribesmen?"

"Go to hell!" Goody spat. Qoloma added another choice epithet in his own dialect. Blood Wind laughed. Then he looked intently at each heron man and werebeast in turn, probing their minds.

"Interesting. None of you know where they've gone. No matter, I'll track them down, no matter where they hide."

Blood Wind turned back towards the fire. As he went, he passed by the bodies of the men Jack had killed. Each one received a dusting of the evil sorcerer's eldritch powders. To the heron men's collective horror, the corpses began to stir.

Slowly they raised themselves until they stood, waiting for their master's commands. The head of the thing that had once been Horace Gibbe lolled obscenely on its broken neck until Blood Wind cast another bit of medicine dust at it, healing the damage Jack had done.

"Give me your knife," the vile sorcerer said to Billy Bob's animated corpse. The dead man drew his bowie knife and offered it silently. "Now go, my undead minions," Blood Wind ordered as he took the weapon. "Search the area. Bring anyone you find to me unharmed."

Silently, the zombies moved quickly off in different directions. The dark shaman motioned again at the fire, tossing another puff of colored powder into it. The flames did not flare this time, but another cloud of odd smoke arose. At Blood Wind's muttered incantations, several small globes of vapor were birthed from the cloud and twirled away into the night. These searchers also went forth, seeking for the missing heron men.

"Now, while we wait, there's a matter I must deal with."

Blood Wind returned to his captives, still holding the bowie knife. As he approached, his eyes were fixed upon Jack. The vampire was still struggling against his sorcerous bonds, which were still beyond his ability to escape from.

"I know what you are, blood drinker, and I know what must be done to end your unnatural life. First, I decapitate you, then I cut out your heart and burn it to ashes. Perhaps I shall position your still-living head beside the fire so you can watch while your heart roasts!"

'You bastard!' cursed the Spirit-Wolf mentally, struggling as hard as Zack in the magickal bonds the vile shaman had cast upon them. And just as vainly.

"You wait your turn," Blood Wind turned on him. "Hunts-by-night is too powerful and dangerous to be allowed to live on, but you," he turned to regard the Ghost-Bear as well with an evil grin, "and you, will both make excellent slaves. Once again, I shall have my faithful Hell-Hound, and another... let's see," he paused to think. "What shall I call you? Demon-Bear, perhaps?"

Zack growled as menacingly as he could. He also thought another unprintable curse at the black garbed sorcerer. Blood Wind merely smiled.

"No matter. By the time I am ready to use our combined power to drive the whites from this land and found my kingdom, I will have thought of an appropriate name that will strike terror into the hearts of my enemies. For now," Blood Wind soliloquized as he advanced upon Jack, "I must remove a potential obstacle."

Blood Wind had taken only two steps towards Jack when one of the globes of mist he had conjured earlier spun rapidly past him, then suddenly dissipated with an audible pop. Another sorcerer, as powerful as he, had destroyed his searcher. An instant later a powerful voice, clearly heard by all present, cried out against the dark shaman.

"You always were a coward, he-witch, killing helpless captives! Turn and face a free man, who is ready to fight, if you dare!"

"Who speaks?" Blood Wind roared into the night. "Show yourself!"

"Have you forgotten me so soon?" asked Falling Star as he appeared nearby. He stood beside the entrance to a shanshasha and held two strange objects in either hand. One appeared to be a sword, glowing with a vivid blue light. The other looked like a wand, tipped with a crystal that glittered prismatically.

"To me, my slaves!" Blood Wind cried out. For dead men, the zombies moved with uncanny speed, returning almost at once to the black sorcerer. "Slay him!" he commanded, pointing at Falling Star.

The undead men attacked at once. But as they neared Falling Star, they began to stumble and slow down. One by one they fell and lost the unnatural life Blood Wind had infused them with. Last to go was the thing that had been Horace Gibbe.

"Die again, evil one!" Falling Star muttered as the rancher's body fell. "And this time, stay dead!"

Momentarily nonplussed, Blood Wind recovered himself and gestured at Falling Star. A cloud of deadly black powder flowed from his hand directly towards the Elxa shaman. But the ebon mist burned away into nothingness as it neared its target.

"What magick is this?"

"The Heart of Zoraxte is not the only totem of power the Elxa possess!" Falling Star informed his enemy as he flourished the glowing sword. "Whoever holds Bluefang is proof against any earthly sorcery."

"A stalemate then, for you cannot kill me. I am invincible now, a being of living mist! However, if I cannot harm you... " Blood Wind gestured suggestively towards his helpless captives with an evil smile.

"No! Do not harm them!"

"Then lay down your totems and come closer," Blood Wind beckoned. "I promise I will kill you swiftly. If you do not, I assure you your brothers here will die slowly and quite painfully before your eyes! Shall I begin with the littlest ones?"

"Andy!" Goody gasped in horror as Blood Wind moved towards the boy. "God in Heaven, no! Stay away from him!"

"Your impotent, worthless white god is not going to save you now!" Blood Wind laughed mirthlessly.

"For all the suffering you have caused, and to avenge the death of our brother Xioga, it is time for you to die, evil one, as you should have long ago!" vowed the heron shaman.

Chanting strange words, Falling Star turned and slashed at the garland of flowers that marked the entrance to the shanshasha with Bluefang, cutting the fragrant rope down. His simple action undid the charm that held back the teeming hoard of spirit forms generated by the heron men's lovemaking within that sacred space. They streamed out, an aetheric flood of invisible energies. But as they did so, Falling Star lifted the glowing totems he carried and chanted more incomprehensible phrases. Suddenly, the erupting mass of spirit forms were revealed to the eyes of the onlookers.

The witnesses were astonished by the variety of shapes the spirits took, some whimsical, some chimerical, some simple, some baroque. But all of them gravitated towards Blood Wind as if he were a veritable spirit magnet. The evil shaman gestured at the onrushing hoard, throwing off varicolored puffs of his deadly powders in a attempt to ward them off, but the spirit forms were not deterred.

The first spirit to reach Blood Wind plunged into his body, convulsing the sorcerer in pain. Then another, and another, and dozens, and scores. Blood Wind fell, writhing and crying out in agony as the hoard of spirits poured into him, not possessing him, but holding his misty body together against the dark shaman's will. For he could have otherwise easily escaped by subliming his body and floating away on the breeze.

"This is impossible!" Blood Wind gasped. "It was promised me by all the dark forces I served: after I touched the Heart of Zoraxte, no living thing would be able to kill me!"

"Then despair, evil one, for the spirits birthed by the love the heron men share in the shanshasha are thought forms that carry great power, but they do not live in any sense of the word!" Falling Star informed him. "They exist only to protect our friends... and defend us from our enemies!"

With those words, Falling Star raised the glittering, crystal tipped wand. Almost at once, the sky was overcast with dark clouds that muttered angry growls of thunder. A bolt of lightning, too bright to look at, lanced from the sky and struck the incapacitated sorcerer. The captives flinched as they watched, expecting an explosion of sound, an earsplitting boom. But the stroke was unnaturally silent. The only noises were Blood Wind's cries of rage, pain and fear.

"The Sky-spear will finish you, evil one!" Falling Star cried above the terrified screams of Blood Wind.

Again and again, bolts of lightning descended soundlessly to strike the vainly struggling sorcerer as Falling Star chanted new incantations. As the bolts fell inexorably and peals of muted thunder sounded at odd intervals, Blood Wind's body began to glow and shrink. The evil shaman soon ceased to cry out, or even look human. The vile sorcerer's body, superheated by repeated strokes of heavenly power, shriveled into a small, smooth, glassy stone, his misty form fused into a jewel-like prison.

Ceasing to call upon the power of the Sky-spear, Falling Star chanted again, cancelling the spells cast by Blood Wind. The invisible bonds dissolved, freeing the seven captives who rose as Falling Star advanced to join them. Jack looked probingly at what appeared to be a blood red ruby that the heron shaman picked up and studied carefully, each using his own magickal senses.

"I don't sense any thoughts," Jack said at last. He looked at the Spirit-Wolf and nodded. "The Spirit-Wolf says if he can exist as a mist, then it ought to be a long time before that stone erodes into dust and frees him."

"Blood Wind is probably dead, but I will guard these remains carefully, to make sure the evil sorcerer stays that way." Falling Star said as he put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm dead, remember? What else can happen to me?" Jack joked as he embraced the heron shaman. "Of course I'm okay. But I don't think I or my friends would've been if you hadn't shown up in such a timely fashion. Thank you."

"You are very welcome."

"Falling Star, where are all the other heron men?" asked Goody, who hugged his friend happily. "Where did you come from?"

"That would be a long story," the heron shaman said as he noticed the two teenagers looking at him goggle eyed, astonished by the feats of magick they had just witnessed. "I see you have two little rabbits with you instead of the one I saw in my medicine dreams."

"Andy, Rich, this is Falling Star, a very wise man. I told Andy about the heron men, but Rich doesn't know anything... "

"Yes I do! Andy told me all about it while we were hidin'!" Rich exclaimed, then turned to Falling Star. "Please, sir, let me join your tribe. I'll do anything you want... "

"A tempting offer!" the shaman chuckled as he tousled the lad's dark hair, "And one that many heron men would find hard to resist. But it is because of your special spirit that you have been guided here, Rich. No one will send you away. Let Goody take care of you and raise you and Andy well, until you are both old enough to become Elxa braves."

"Yes, sir!" Rich replied as he and Andy both nodded in agreement and then turned to hug and kiss Goody.

"My name is Qoloma," the native said, stepping forward, "a friend of Heyoka. He invited me to visit... "

"Yes. One of our brothers had a medicine dream and saw you coming to us. Welcome, my new brother." Falling Star hugged Qoloma as more voices sounded, approaching. The looked to see Hun Tzu leading a small group of Elxa. All had rifles at the ready.

"Falling Star! Are you alright?" called Hun Tzu. "I brought help as quickly as I could... "

"Luckily, it was not needed, my brother," Falling Star smiled as he placed the reddish, glassy lump in the geomancer's hand. "Will you please look after this for awhile? Be sure not to lose it!"

"What is it?"

"All that's left of the evil being who was hidden within Horace Gibbe's body, without any of us knowing it," Jack returned. "Blood Wind."

"It's just as Jonathan dreamed!" gasped Silas as he eyed the object nestled in Hun Tzu's palm, looking like a jewel in the rough. "The enemy he saw boasted that he wore more than one mask!"

Falling Star raised his eyes to the group.

"I see we have much to discuss. Come. let us sit and talk. I must apologize first though. There were supposed to be sentries left here, in case other heron men who did not know what was happening came to Roman Rock. It seems I forgot to assign the job to someone, so I came here myself. I had retrieved our ancient totems from the cave of mysteries earlier and, sensing trouble, I brought them with me."

"It's a good thing you did!" Goody agreed for the group.

"So, where is everyone?" asked Jack, as they moved to sit around the fire pit in the tribal fane.

"Come, my friends, and I will explain. Many strange and wonderful things have happened of late... "

"This is incredible... " Jack murmured as Falling Star finished his story.

"The heron men are all gone?" asked Goody. "To the spirit realm?"

"Well, there are some who have not yet made the journey, and I will see to it that they do, as soon as possible. We all must know this wonderful mystery. Of those who have been there, most have decided to return to the valley of the heron and continue to live as they always have, visiting the spirit realm occasionally, and a few are going to stay in the spirit world and learn the ways of the green men. But eventually, I expect we all will move there as Xaculi plans to. After he has lived there for a time, the spirit realm will rejuvenate him."

"Can we go there too?" asked Jack. He had obviously referred to the werebeasts as well as himself.

"Of course," a new voice began. "You share our nature, and the spirit realm was made for men like us."

"Ayuta," Falling Star smiled at the green men's elder, "and Xaculi. Welcome."

"Ah," Ayuta began after looking at the vampire and the werebeasts for a few moments, "I have met men like you before, but rarely. I sensed the presence of the power you carry and came to see it for myself."

Falling Star looked at the werebeasts. Using his gift, a telepathic exchange passed between them, letting them know that there was no longer any reason to keep their secrets. Zack and Eben looked at each other and exchanged a few thoughts before agreeing. Before the eyes of the assembly, some surprised and some not, they resumed their human forms and donned clothes they kept stashed in the nearby bunkhouse.

"I thought it was you two," murmured Hun Tzu. "My lo-pan always detected an unusual energy around you both, but it also warned me against speaking of it."

"Yes," Ayuta continued after this revelation, "you can come to the spirit realm. You should know though that in the spirit realm, you will be ordinary men. Your 'abilities' will disappear once you pass through the gateway between worlds."

"Ordinary?" Jack asked, not believing his ears. Ayuta nodded reassuringly at the vampire, as well as at Eben and Zack, who were having similar thoughts.

"Will we be cured of our lycanthropy permanently?" asked Zack.

"No. If and when any of you return to Earth, you will once again be what you are now, with all your strengths and weaknesses. But as long as you stay in the spirit realm, as I said, you will be ordinary mortals."

"To be just human again, after so long... " Jack muttered in disbelief.

"Shall we go back to the spirit realm now, and show you?" asked Ayuta as he got up.

Hun Tzu marked the men and teenagers and assisted them through the great cottonwood tree he had opened near Roman Rock. Jack was the last to be prepared. But Ayuta stopped him before they went to the tree.

"I want to tell you something before you go, my new friend," the green elder began. "You are not the first of your kind to enter the spirit realm. In fact, I have taken the liberty of summoning one of our brothers who knows what you have gone through."

"Why?" Jack asked. He had already tried and failed to see into Ayuta's mind, so he did not attempt it again.

"You will see. Do not worry. I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

In the spirit realm, just as Ayuta had promised, Zack and Eben found themselves merely human. None of the sensory enhancements they had on Earth were present. And when they tried to transform, nothing happened.

"Come on," Zack urged, "let's go join the others."

"I want to wait for Jack."

"Do you mean Jack Ramsey?" a brown haired man asked, coming closer. Eben and Zack felt the shock of recognition as they looked at his bearded face.

"I know you... " Zack began.

"How?"

"Jack showed us his memories once," explained Eben. "And you were in them."

"Really?"

"Well, actually," corrected Zack, "they were Basil's memories... "

"Basil?" the stranger asked, wide-eyed. "He knew Basil?"

"He lived with him, in... " Eben paused and his expression changed. "You're Marcus, aren't you?"

Before the man could respond, the surface of the tree behind them shimmered in an way that was quickly becoming familiar. As they turned, Jack came through. At once the vampire collapsed on the ground.

"Jack! What's wrong?"

"It's alright, Eben," Marcus said, kneeling beside him. "Jack just hasn't used his lungs for breathing in a long time, but his body will remember. Take it easy," he crooned to the man. "Relax and let it happen on its own."

"It... can't be," Jack managed. "Marcus?"

"Yes, my friend, it's me."

"There's so much... I want to tell you... all the years I spent... with Basil... and the memories he gave me... "

"And I want to hear it. Our telepathic gifts are gone, Jack, but we are still immortal. We have plenty of time for words."

EPILOGUE

Those Elxa who chose to return to the valley of the heron continued to live as they had and have adventures, but eventually they did retreat to the spirit realm as they aged and, more and more, the outside world pressed in on their mountain refuge. In time, the heron men became truly mythic and their lands came under the control of the federal government. When national forests were established in the early twentieth century, surveying crews fanned out across the west to lay out the new boundaries.

Thus it was that when two of these surveyors stumbled across an old cabin one evening in the course of their duties, they looked on it as a stroke of luck. They set up their camp and shared a meal, discussing the progress they had made, and not all of it just in surveying. For in the time since they had been assigned to work together, they found they shared something else, a nature each had been taught was wrong, but was too strong to deny.

They spread their blankets out beside the old wood stove and lay down, continuing to speak in quiet voices. At length, they ran out of things to say. But their hands picked up the conversation, moving in a tactile language that had been spoken between men before men had the words to describe the feelings that animated their man-loving male hearts...

A crack in the roof of the ruined cabin allowed a slender shaft of sunlight to lance down into a tangled nest of blankets containing two naked sleeping forms. The finger of light stroked the side of one of them and he awoke. His partner's back was to him and he reached around to hug and cuddle the man from behind, feeling his fingers rake through the curly hair of his chest.

Joe heard the man make a wordless, purring sort of noise indicative of pleasure in response. Though half-awake, he moved, grinding his ass backward into Joe's crotch, dreamily reliving their lovemaking of the night before. Joe lifted his head to kiss and nuzzle his friend Mike's ear, then froze when he opened his eyes.

A red haired man was sitting in one of the old chairs nearby, watching the pair. He had a pipe clenched in his teeth and the smoke from it wreathed his head like a halo. He grinned at Joe.

"Howdy." he said, quietly.

"Huh?" Mike responded, looking up.

"Don't be alarmed," he went on. "My name's Silas. I used to live here with my partner a while ago. I come back from time to time to visit and remember. I'm glad my old cabin could shelter you."

"Oh, uh, this is your place?" Joe managed, as nonchalantly as he could.

"It was once. I understand the government owns it now."

"Yeah," Mike spoke up, "this is a national forest now. It'll be protected and managed by the forest service."

"I'm glad," Silas said, standing up, "I never wanted to see lots of roads and buildin's clutterin' up this land. Well, I'll leave you two alone. Take care."

"What was that all about?" Mike muttered after Silas was gone.

"I don't know, but his story doesn't make sense," began Joe. "Nobody's lived here for a long time, but he didn't look that old. I'm going after him to find out what he meant."

Joe got up and went to the front door. He saw movement not far away, in a copse of willows that grew alongside a stream that snaked past the cabin. He motioned frantically to his friend.

"Mike!" he whispered urgently. "Come here, quick!"

"What is it?" he asked, coming over a fast as he could.

"Look!"

Mike came in time to see a scintillating light playing on the surface of the largest tree in the small grove. Their visitor stood before it, then stepped into it, vanishing before their eyes. Then the light faded away, leaving everything looking normal.

"Is this place haunted?" Mike breathed.

"He didn't seem like a ghost."

"Come on," Mike began as he turned away to find his clothes. "Let's get out of here. They ain't paying me enough to work in a crazy place like this!"

Joe followed his friend's lead. But nothing he had seen in the last few minutes felt wrong or dangerous to him. As the pair left the ruined cabin behind them, Joe looked back and noted well the landmarks so that he could find his way back. There was a mystery there that was sure to draw him back to that place someday.

THE END

of Heron World

the twelfth and last story in the series

'The Way Of The Heron'

by C. T. Creekmur

comments or suggestions are welcome at tcreekmur@hotmail.com

Copyright (c) 2009 by Charles T. Creekmur

"All Rights Reserved"

submitted to www.nifty.org 1/26/2009