Firstliners

Bloodsmane

This is not a forest that we have walked in before; this forest is unknown to us. Still we walk, and the pursuer follows. We are Three-leaves; we who are two-sex, seer-Shaman of the Water People. We have traveled many footfalls from our home. We stand high on the farthest hill as the Yellow Light God prepares to rest -- giving way to the shroud of blackness -- for the night, and still the pursuer follows; moving through the trees with stealth, unaware that he has been spotted by eyes that are keen and clear. We know of his presence, and we know the pursuer advances; we can see the dark shape moving amongst the trees. We wait here for our pursuer to catch up to us. We know that we cannot out run him anyway; this is what the pursuer is trained to do: hunt. So we wait; watching as he moves, each of his footfalls a deliberate claim upon us. Runs-like-Wolf emerges from the shadows.

“Why do you pursue me?” We ask.

“Because you are mine,” Runs-like-Wolf answers.

“We are Shaman; I belong to no one. You can not possess me,” we state flatly.

“We are promised,” he says.

“You are misguided, return to the water home. You can not follow.”

“I am he-who-is-to-be-chief, you cannot order me,” Runs-Like-Wolf snaps.

“I am they who will bear the seer-child. You cannot defy me. Return to the water home.”

“You are mine, we have been promised,” Runs-Like-Wolf said angrily, “you must take me as your child sire. I am to be chief. All Shamans have taken he-who-is-to-be-chief as sire of their seer-child. Why do you deny me?

“You know why, and still you pursue me. We are Shaman, we order you to return to the water home,” we turned to leave; Runs-like-Wolf put one very large hand around our bicep.

“I will not give up my birthright. You shall be mine!”  Runs-like-Wolf pulled us to him and forced us to kiss him.

We pushed away from Runs-like-Wolf and stumble backward. We tripped over a rock and fell to the ground. We looked upon Runs-like-Wolf with scorn. As we stood up, we said, “you know that I have accepted the male, and have taken a wife, this cannot be! You know the prophecy, it cannot be. We are no longer promised.”

Furious; Runs-like-Wolf said, “You are mine; not my sisters! Mine! I will not give up my birthright!”

He took one gaping stride forward, and stood over us. Runs-like-Wolf swung his tree-trunk sized arm, and his massive fist struck us across the face. Our jaw immediately gave way with an audible crack; the force and delirium knocking us to the ground again. Runs-like-Wolf dropped down on top of us; ripping at our clothes, forcing his tongue into our mouth. The pain threatening to cause us to pass out, but we knew if we do we would not wake again. But what can we do; Runs-like-Wolf is very large, strong and proud, the largest of the great Susquehannoch warriors; and Three-Leaves has been promised.

Darkness gathered in our mind -- we are going to move into the misty place. This is how it always starts: with the darkness. The only thing different is the pain coming from our jaw. Runs-like-Wolf opened his leggings, and forced his life-piece past ours and into our womb. We lay there, beneath his bulk, unable to move or fight. We --Three-leaves; we who are two-sex, seer-Shaman to the Water People – wished that he -- Runs-like-Wolf; he-who-is-to-be-chief of all Susquehannoch -- would have heeded our command, and returned to the water home. Why hadn’t he?

The darkness was complete now; the mist filling our mind. Had Runs-like-Wolf been so hurt when we took Butterfly as our wife? Runs-like-Wolf had offered her. Why had he offered her if he did not want it to be so? These questions we cannot answer. The mist is taking us away from this awful place of pain into the circle of the White-ones.

We walked slowly; that is our only way of describing this feeling of movement. The truth is we had no reference of being, only that we moved forward, since we could not put this feeling into better words, this description had always sufficed. We who are Shaman -- seer of past, present and future, descendent of a long line of hermaphroditic Shaman who mates with the chief -- is being defiled by he-who-was-promised. Although, I -- we -- Three-leaves broke that tradition, and taken the first bride, Butterfly, since the first mother; we thought we were safe. Runs-like-Wolf proctored the mating.All faded away and the Circle of White-Ones came into focus. Three-leaves stood in the center. All stared blankly at us. One spoke; though his mouth did not open.

The one known as Sitting-Pride asked, “Why do you call upon the White Council?”

“I do not know,” we replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The White-One to our right, White Deer, said, “You have seen this before. Why do you not see it now?”

“What have I seen before?” We wondered.

“Your Death,” White Deer said without pity.

“When?” We asked.

“When you were promised,” Sitting Pride said.

“We don’t remember. That was before our memory.”

“You are the Shaman; you are seer of everything past, present, and future. Why do you choose not to remember this?” Sitting Pride asked.

* * *

Runs-like-Wolf’s mind and heart was brimming with joy. He had finally joined with the promised one. I will sire a Shaman with the heart of a warrior. He took in the scent of the Shaman; it was sweet and clean, like the wind after the Sky-Mother cried. He pushed himself deeper into the promised one and moaned with pleasure. Three-Leaves body stiffened as he did; a reaction that Runs-like-Wolf mistook for Three-leaves’ enjoyment of his actions.

Three-leaves body began to feel cold against Runs-like-Wolf’s body, though he took no heed; he continued his assault on the Shaman. Pushing deeper and deeper into them, until his pleasure was too great to contain, and his body began to convulse.

* * *

There was another in the forest that fateful evening. He was tracking the two HU-mans. He knew -- his kind always knew -- what would happen, and waited patiently for just the right moment. He stood at the edge of darkness about thirty footfalls away: listening. He -- who is soon to be known as Bloodsmane -- watched the large Susquehannoch take the epicene one. Now the time grows near: the moment of his entrance into the Shaman they refer to as Three-leaves was upon him. He left the comfort of the shadows; slowly at first, he did not want to startle the big one, rousing him to battle. He needed the big one to continue if his plan was to work. The big one was essential. Faster now; advancing on the two bodies that lay in the clearing, Bloodsmane took to the air; his already ethereal body becoming even more so, like smoke on a swift breeze. His smoky body hovered over them for just a second -- waiting for the moment of death -- then dove into the open mouth as it exhaled the last breath of life.

* * *

Three-leaves bucked beneath Runs-like-Wolf again, and again he misread the Shaman’s reaction. He thought the promised one was in ecstasy. Still, he took no notice of the sudden chill to the Shaman’s skin. He lay there, on top of the Shaman he considered his, pondering the child they would bear him. The sire he would grant all wishes too.

* * *

The Shaman’s soul was pushed out, and the council wept, “It is time Three-leaves, you must move down the path,” Sitting Pride said.

“Yes, it is time,” The soul of Three-leaves moved out of the circle and back into the land of the soul-catchers. That is how the spirits referred to the living, because their souls are caught in a shell of skin. Three-leaves flew through the air -- over great and old trees, high and majestic mountains, wide and swift rivers -- until he reached the land of others.

* * *

Runs-like-Wolf held his promised one tight and lovingly. He whispered softly to Three-leaves, “We have joined. I have planted my seed, and we will have a great seer-child. When I am chief of the land I shall bestow onto you the greatest of gifts. I will keep you long and dear to my soul.”

He-who-is-no-longer Three-leaves took in a long and generous breath of sweet mountain air then shuddered. Runs-like-Wolf blind to his emanate downfall, said, “Yes, I feel the ecstasy of our joining too. We have done something great; my promised one. We are at the precipice of a new beginning for our people Three-leaves. You, the greatest and most powerful seer-Shaman to ever live and I the Greatest of all warriors before, now and forever; we shall rein over the greatest seasons of the people.”

He-who-is-no-longer Three-leaves opened his eyes and blinked; Bloodsmane looked solemnly at the person that lay on top of him. He blinked again, and a wicked smile slid across his face. Bloodsmane’s arms slid up and over Runs-like-Wolf’s shoulders then snuggly around his neck. Runs-like-Wolf smiled proudly down at his promised one. A feeling of pride filed him; he had recaptured the one that had been destined to be his since the days of their birth. He looked deeply into those dark-eyes, he admired the smoothness of the skin on the face of the one he still considered Three-Leaves’. He had always loved the perfect color that matched the muddy-redness of the mighty river. The water that accepted his promised one into the land of the Susqehannoch. He looked closely at the eyes and saw; what was that: a twinkle. A twinkle that wasn’t there before; a twinkle he accepted as a light of happiness that he had brought to the soul of his promised one.

“No, my promised one, you did not bring the twinkle to my eyes.”

Runs-like-Wolf was startled, had the Shaman read his thoughts; yes of course he had, he was the Shaman he knew and saw things that others did not, “are you looking into my thoughts, promised one?”

“Yes. I see all.”

“Do you see the future of our sire?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then tell me, what shall our sire-child be like?”

The demon’s eyes flared a bright fiery red, and in a deep gravely voice it said, “They shall be the image of their father,” Runs-like-Wolf jerked to free himself from Bloodsmane. He knew what had happened; he had caused it -- the prophecy -- to come true. It registered instantly: the sudden change in his promised one was his doing. But, the demon held tight. Its legs swung out and around him, drawing his manhood back inside. Runs-like-Wolf released a howl of pain as the razor sharp nails bore into his back; digging deep into his skin. He felt the warm blood flowing down his arched back.

The demon pulled hard and brought his face down to it and spat, “You shall sire, my spawn, RUNS-LIKE-WOLF, and I shall take our brood to the great snowy mountains and rear them. In the first warm season after their ascension into adult we will return to destroy your great people!”

“No I won’t let you…”

“What can you do? You can’t destroy me. It’s time to nourish your sires.”

The demon held him tight with its left arm. Bloodsmane pierced Runs-like-Wolf’s neck with the nails on his right hand: nails that had grown to two-inches. The crimson fluid gushed from the wounds into the waiting lips of the demon. It ravenously sucked at the wounds. But, the blood flowed fast; much of it went spurting down the side of the demon’s face onto the ground below its head. The dark silken tresses that adorned the Shaman’s head soaked up the red fluid from the sodden grass. The wavy hair became a deep crimson.  Runs-like-Wolf felt the life draining from him. He also felt the unyielding stiffness between his legs. The life was being siphoned from him in the most appalling of ways, and he was powerless to stop it. He eyes rolled up into his head, he saw many colors, and then everything went black. He sucked in long, deep breaths of air. He could taste the freshness of the grassy knoll through the dryness of his mouth. He inhaled the smell of wildflowers mixed with the acrid sweet coppery stench of his blood. The White-Ones took him.