“Go ahead,” said the bear. “You need to clean off, and you need to drink, but only a small amount or you’ll make yourself sick.”
Soaring Hawk dove into the water. It was cool and refreshing. He stood and scooped up several small handfuls. He looked back to the bank. The bear sat waiting. As Soaring Hawk waded out of the water, the bear rose and walked a short distance to a thicket of wild blackberries.
“Eat,” the bear commanded.
The young man picked several handfuls and ate. They tasted wonderful.
When he had eaten his fill, he took time to dress, and then sat cross-legged on the grass looking at the bear.
“How is it you are still with me when I have left the circle? Rides the Wind said once I did that, the quest was over.”
The bear had lowered itself to the ground and now returned the boy’s stare, with paws crossed in front of him.
“Rides the Wind is from your father’s side of you. I am from your mother’s. I do not follow the rules of the people.”
“But,” Soaring Hawk protested, “I am of the people. I live among them. I am not a white.”
“Oh, aren’t you? You know the language of the white man. Have you not noticed we are speaking in that language now?”
Soaring Hawk considered this.
“And besides that, you have the body of a white man. You are stocky and your muscles are heavy and full. You are not slender and sinewy as the men of the people. Your body is beginning to be covered with hair. Come.”
The bear got up and walked back to the water’s edge. Soaring Hawk followed.
“Look into the water. What do you see?”
He looked at his reflection in the calm, clear water. What he saw was a handsome face, but not the face of a man of the people. He saw a dark-haired white man. His eyes were dark like those of his father, but his features were like those of his mother, only masculine.
“Look at your hair,” the bear suggested.
Looking once more at his image in the water, he saw his hair was not straight. It was wavy. And when the sun shone on it, he could see his dark hair was not really black, but dark brown, with hints of red. He frowned.
“Do these things trouble you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to be different from my people.”
“You may come to value that difference more and more in time. But enough. It’s time for me to leave you. You’ve learned what you can from me.”
With those words, the bear turned and walked away. At the edge of the forest, it paused and looked back. “One more thing,” said the bear. “It would be good to keep in mind the name by which your mother calls you.”
This puzzled Soaring Hawk, but he raised his hand in farewell.
CHAPTER 3
LEAN BEAR
“It’s been three years since your quest, and you’re now nineteen summers. It’s time you took a wife,” said Cunning Fox. “I’ve been married now two summers and already have a son,” he added proudly.
“And I’ll be married in the fall,” said Shining Otter. “You need to consider your future. You have been pledged to marry Wind Flower for some time. I’m sure she’s wondering what’s taking you so long.”
Soaring Hawk listened to his friends as they returned from a hunt. Each carried several rabbits and a pheasant or two. He sighed. They’d had this conversation before.
“Yes,” agreed Cunning Fox. “Your father is now chief, And you’ll be chief after him. You will need a son to follow you.” “Have you been with Wind Flower?” asked Shining Otter. “We are not married yet,” replied Soaring Hawk. “Why? Have
you been with Laughing Water?”
“Oh, yes, many times,” Shining Otter replied, smiling broadly. This surprised Soaring Hawk.“The elders do not encourage it.
But once you’re pledged, they do not interfere,” continued Shining Otter. “Cunning Fox, were you with Hummingbird before you were married?” asked Soaring Hawk.
“No, but we were married soon after we were pledged, so there was no need. You, though, have been pledged for more than two summers. Don’t you feel anxious to be with her?” Cunning Fox replied.
“Maybe he visits Lean Bear to take care of his needs,” Shining Otter said with a laugh.
“No!” cried Soaring Hawk, more loudly than he should have.
“Easy, my friend. There’s no need to be upset,” said Shining Otter. “I’ve been with him.”
Both Cunning Fox and Soaring Hawk stopped and turned to their friend in surprise.
“Why?” asked Cunning Fox.
Shining Otter shrugged. “I wanted to know what it was like.”
“And?” prompted Cunning Fox.
“And it was not as good as being with Laughing Water, but it was all right.”
The three friends walked on toward the village. Cunning Fox and Shining Otter continued talking; Soaring Hawk was lost in thought.
Ever since returning from his quest, Soaring Hawk had struggled with the things his spirit guides had revealed to him. He had not told anyone the nature of the revelations, only how pleased he was with what he had learned about himself.
This was true, up to a point. He was pleased he was not of two spirits, but the fact he desired the love of a man over that of a woman was troublesome. In the time that had passed since the quest, he had not found the courage to bring this to anyone who might help him understand what this could mean for him and his future. Now this conversation had caused him to consider again what he had learned.
His friends accepted his account of the quest. They were impressed Soaring Hawk had had a conversation with his spirit guide and had received a name and a token, which still hung around his neck in the shaman’s pouch. He had not mentioned the second guide, however.
Cunning Fox said he’d had no revelations and had not met his spirit guide. He had chosen his own name. Shining Otter didn’t share whether he had learned anything of himself, but said he dreamed of a shining otter, so decided that was his sign for a name.
“Soaring Hawk? Are you listening to us?” Cunning Fox asked when his friend did not respond. “I asked if you were ready to marry Wind Flower.”
Shaken from his reverie, he said, “You’re right. I need to move forward with my life,” avoiding the question of marriage.
The conversation moved to other things as they continued their walk back to the village. Soaring Hawk knew he must take responsibility for his future. He was the son of a chief. One day he would be chief. He had to do what was right for the people. He would seek the council of Rides the Wind.
* * *
Soaring Hawk sat once more inside the lodge of the old shaman. He had not been here since the day he had been told of the quest. He had been with Rides the Wind at other times, but never in his dwelling. He sat nervously, looking across the smoldering fire pit, trying to find a way to begin.
Rides the Wind sat waiting, a patient expression on his face. Once again, as so often in the past, Soaring Hawk thought him a handsome man, an ageless man.
“How can I help with what is troubling you?” he asked in his kindly tone.
Soaring Hawk took a deep breath. “My father is now chief,” the young man began.
Rides the Wind smiled and nodded, obviously pleased River Runs Deep had been elevated to that rank.
“And someday…um…someday I may be chief, too.”
“If the people approve, yes.”
“Of course, if the people approve,” said the brave. He was quiet for a time.
Rides the Wind spoke. “Is that what troubles you? Do you not desire to one day be chief?”
“No, no. To be chief would be a great honor and,” he added, “responsibility.” He thought for a moment and then continued. “Must a man be married to be chief?” He dropped his eyes, feeling embarrassment at the underlying reason for the question.
Rides the Wind did not respond at once. When he did, he seemed to choose his words carefully. “Traditionally, yes, the chief takes a wife. Bu
t there is no reason he must.”
Soaring Hawk looked up, relieved, only to be confronted with the shaman’s next question to him.
“Soaring Hawk, why do you not want to marry?”
Taken aback at the abruptness of the query, Soaring Hawk’s mouth dropped open.
When he did not respond to Rides the Wind, the shaman continued. “Do you believe you are of two spirits?”
There was no remonstration, no condescension, just a simple question. This encouraged the young man to speak openly to his shaman.
“No, I am not of two spirits. My spirit guide revealed that to me.”
The old man nodded.
“But I am not as other men are. I am fully a man, a man of honor, courage, kindness and loyalty.”
“These are good qualities, my son, desired in any man, and especially in a man who would be chief. So, why do you say you are not as other men are?”
“I am a man who desires the love and companionship of another man.”
“Then you are of two spirits,” Rides the Wind said simply.
“No,” said Soaring Hawk, running his hand through his hair. “I am not a man on the outside and a woman within. I am not ikoueta. I am a man.”
“But if you desire to pleasure other men, then you are of two spirits.”
Soaring Hawk closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them again, he looked at the shaman, who sat smiling kindly at him. He dropped his gaze and looked again at the ground. The wise, all-knowing shaman did not understand. He had no point of reference for this. Soaring Hawk realized in Rides the Wind’s mind, he either was a man who desired a woman, or a man of two spirits. There was no room for the concept of his being a man who desired the love of another man.
“I do not desire to pleasure other men,” he said looking into the glowing coals. “I desire to be with another man and to offer myself to him alone. I do not wish to be used by other men without love.”
He raised his eyes to meet those of Rides the Wind, imploring him with his intense gaze to understand, and offer some word of encouragement.
The two sat in silence for a time. Soaring Hawk knew Rides the Wind was trying to make sense of what he had just heard.
Finally, the old man spoke. “Soaring Hawk, you are young. Perhaps this confusion is just from your lack of experience. Perhaps it would be wise to gain some experience and see if that does not clear your mind.”
“But, my spirit guide—”
“Sometimes what a spirit guide reveals is not fully understood at first.”
With that, Rides the Wind rose, signaling the end of their time together
* * * Soaring Hawk paced impatiently back and forth along the path just outside the village. He had asked Wind Flower to meet him. Was she late, or was he early, he wondered?
Despite his misgivings, he had decided to defer to the wisdom of the shaman. Perhaps he had not fully understood what the hawk was telling him. After all, he was hungry, thirsty, and feeling strange from eating the leaves given him by Rides the Wind. So, here he was, waiting to see Wind Flower, hoping to gain some clarity as to what path his life would take. Finally, after several more minutes had passed, he heard a rustle in the bushes. He turned just as his intended bride came around a bend in the path. He smiled as she walked toward him, trying to take in her beauty; waiting to see how he would respond.
She was, indeed, a lovely young woman. Her long black hair, done in braids, hung below her waist. Her eyes were almondshaped and deep brown as with all of the people, save Soaring Hawk’s mother. She was small and looked almost fragile. Her hips were narrow and her breasts small. She had a radiant smile for her would-be husband.
Running the last few steps between them, Wind Flower came into Soaring Hawk’s arms and laid her head on his chest, folding her delicate hands around his well developed biceps as he wrapped his arms around her. She lifted her face to his, and he bent and kissed her tenderly.
As he held her, he felt warmth and tenderness, but no passion or excitement. He dropped the embrace, took her by the hand, and led her down the path into the forest. They walked in silence for a time.
She began to talk of this and that, happenings in the village, her sister and the birth of her baby. He listened. He did not speak.
Coming to a clearing where there was a niche of smooth, soft grass, he bade her sit. She did so with her legs tucked beside her. She leaned on one hand and picked the small purple flowers growing among the grasses with the other. He stretched out on his side and leaned on one elbow, continuing to listen to her soft, melodic voice, taking in the contours of her face and surveying the lithe body that could be his for the asking.
Again, there was deep appreciation for her beauty, but no arousal, no building tension. He reached up, pulled her to him and kissed her. She responded with sweet innocence, rose, turned and curled against him, placing her small hand on his, which lay lightly on her stomach.
He nuzzled her hair with his nose and whispered a breath into her ear, which made her giggle. He then moved his hand up to her breast and caressed it, feeling the small nipple harden beneath his touch. She arched her back against him, reached over her shoulder and put her hand on the back of his head, turning her face to him. He bent again and kissed her.
She turned to him, throwing both arms around his neck, and pulled him close. She ground her pelvis against him. She was his for the taking. He felt himself hardening, but there was no urgency, no passionate response. He knew then that it would be wrong to continue, to engage in something that might harm this beautiful, delicate flower, when he was so unsure. He did not want to hurt her.
He pulled back, smiled and said, “Your wedding night will be one of beauty and love, Wind Flower. You would be wise to wait for that.”
She kissed him once more and responded, “I can wait. For you, I’d wait for many moons.”
Soaring Hawk smiled to hide the sadness he was feeling. He stood and pulled her to her feet. With arms around each other’s waists, they returned to the village.
* * * Soaring Hawk strode purposefully toward his destination. As he did, he felt an excitement growing within him, a tension building in his loins. He was determined to find a path for himself to his future place in the tribe.
Walking down the familiar corridor between the lodges of his people, the home of Lean Bear came into view. There before it, with his back to Soaring Hawk, was the man he had come to see, stretching to hang skins to dry on the rack next to his lodge. The sight of his muscular back increased Soaring Hawk’s excitement.
He walked, without hesitation, up behind him. “Lean Bear.” Lean Bear turned around and broke into a broad smile. “Soaring Hawk,” he greeted the young brave. “It is good to see
you.” Soaring Hawk watched as Lean Bear’s gaze swept up and down his body. He felt a thrill of anticipation.
“You surely have grown into quite a man,” Lean Bear added, as his eyes returned to Soaring Hawk’s face. “Is there something I can do for you?”
Soaring Hawk faltered. “I…uh..I am…”
“In need?” Lean Bear finished the sentence. “I hoped one day to have you come to me.” He reached out and laid his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. Soaring Hawk felt as if lightning had touched him. “Come, we will go to the forest.”
Lean Bear turned and started to walk away.
“Oh, no, I…I’d rather not go there.” Soaring Hawk stammered.
Lean Bear chuckled, turning back. “Ah…so you’d rather not be spied on, as you used to spy on me when you were a boy…you and your friend Cunning Fox.”
Astonished, Soaring Hawk replied. “You knew?”
“Yes, I knew.” He continued to laugh softly.
“I am sorry. I…” Soaring Hawk suddenly felt like that young boy hiding in the bushes watching as Lean Bear offered himself to the men of the village. He could feel his cheeks getting warm.
“No matter,” Lean Bear said, walking back to where Soaring Hawk stood. “I knew you were t
here. It didn’t bother me. It’s something all boys do. It’s how they learn of such things. But if you would rather, come, let us go inside.”
Lean Bear led the way into his small lodge. Soaring Hawk took a deep breath and followed. Once inside, he let his eyes get accustomed to the semi-darkness. There was no fire in the pit, as it was summer and Lean Bear fixed his meals outdoors. The only light came from the smoke hole in the roof. Soaring Hawk felt his heart beat harder against his chest; his hands were wet with sweat. It ran down his sides as well. His moment of truth was at hand.
When he could clearly see his surroundings, Lean Bear was kneeling on all fours on a mat on the other side of the fire pit, with his butt toward Soaring Hawk. He had completely lifted the short flap of his breechclout. Soaring Hawk could see the brown ring of the man’s hole.
“No,” he said. His voice sounded strange to him. “No, this is not how I want it to be.”
Lean Bear rose, so he was kneeling. He walked on his knees until he was in front of Soaring Hawk. He started to raise the brave’s breechclout.
“No,” Soaring Hawk said again.
Lean Bear looked up into his eyes. He had a puzzled expression on his face. He rose and stood facing the young man.
“What then?” he asked, sounding confused.
Soaring Hawk did not respond at first. He merely raised his hand to Lean Bear’s cheek and caressed it. “This,” he said softly.
Lean Bear at first looked surprised, then smiled and leaned into the caress, covering Soaring Hawk’s hand with his own. With his other hand, Lean Bear undid the drawstring of his loincloth and let it fall to the floor.
Soaring Hawk watched the man’s phallus lengthen and rise. He reached down and undid his own breechclout, which freed his already hard cock that stood beyond the horizontal—pointing at the roof.
Lean Bear reached out and ran his hands over Soaring Hawk’s firm, muscular chest, twirling the black hair between his fingers.
“I have wanted to do this for so long,” Lean Bear said, his voice husky with desire.
In turn, Soaring Hawk let his hand roam over his partner’s body, finally cradling his sac in one hand, massaging the stones within. He felt Lean Bear take hold of his penis, smearing the clear fluid over the head that had emerged from its covering. He pulled Lean Bear closer and pressed their foreheads together.
The Search for Soaring Hawk Page 4
