Chapter Six
The first few nights with Black Feather were quiet. He had to spend a lot of time sleeping to recover from life in the cell, as well as his brush with death. I brought him bugs for protein and even the occasional mouse. He sighed at the minute servings, but ate them all the same. I mistakenly thought we might share each meal, but I’d forgotten just how much food young men could eat, particularly after they had rejoined the land of the living.
I hunted alone those days, thinking of what I was going to do now that Black Feather had come to live in the desert with me. We couldn’t go back to the compound; we were criminals, and we would be subjected to the awful collars or worse. It was also very possible that the shifter community wouldn’t want us. We were dangerous, after all. I wished I could talk to Tina. I realized I had never left her any kind of sign. Perhaps we could see each other once more. She might have some ideas.
I remember how much my heart ached those days. I was thrilled to know Black Feather was out of jail and safe with me, but at the same time, I genuinely had no idea what to do. I would have suggested that we travel to another place, but all I saw on the horizon was more desert, more Nothing. I prayed to the Children every night for guidance, but they had gone silent. So, I kept my prayers in my heart and asked science to show me the way.
After several nights of my sad ambling around in the dirt, Black Feather began to walk with me. To my surprise, he seemed to genuinely enjoy the vast, empty space. He would occasionally walk on his hands to make me laugh, though I was reluctant to do so right away. He almost always tumbled down clumsily into the dirt with a little yelp of surprise, and his clumsiness would be the thing that brought a smile to my face.
“Why don’t you fly, little bird?”
“Because,” he would answer defiantly, “I already fly perfectly. The real challenge is doing this stuff as a human.”
Once, as we were walking and scanning the ground for any tasty bugs, we came to a small patch of shade provided by a cluster of rocks. There, between the stones was a tiny, white flower poking up and enjoying the night air. He bent over, and I thought he might pluck it, so I stopped him with a hand to his chest.
“Don’t! Let it live.”
He grabbed my hand and held it close to him with that awful smirk of his. As soon as I saw it, my anger flared up hotter than I’d ever felt before. I tugged my hand away, but he held it tighter. “I wasn’t going to pull it up.”
“You were. Do not lie.” I pulled again, and this time he let it go.
“The flowers don’t need your protection,” he informed me. “They’re much stronger than they look. This little soldier is growing in this dry, rocky environment like it’s nothing. She’s powerful, like you.” He tried to touch my face when he said the last part, but I ducked away.
“Stop that.”
He did a ridiculous little bow, spreading his arms in a show of submission. “Of course, my savior.” I sighed and walked away, leaving him to laugh at my back. Why were boys so ridiculous?
The desert kept us fed, and I showed Black Feather the key stars to look for to find his way around, but he just shook his head. “I can fly, my fossa,” he reminded me. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“But you don’t fly. You walk around all night. So, you need to know how to do it safely.” He didn’t respond, and I tilted my head as I looked at him. “Why are you reluctant to shift these days? We could use your skills as a bird. Surely you could hunt and eat bugs more efficiently in your animal form.”
He shrugged and looked down, playing with tiny stones in the ground. His eyes avoided mine for the rest of the night, and he wasn’t himself again until we woke up the next morning.
For fun one night, I taught him the Malagasy welcome song.
“It’s a two-part song,” I explained, “and it’s traditionally sung with a part for the women and a part for the men, but I can’t sing both. The male part is too low.”
“I’m not a singer,” he said as he shrugged and looked away.
“Can you speak? Can you shout?” He nodded, and I continued. “Then you have control of your voice. So, you can sing. I’ll teach you.”
We stood watching the last of the sunset, and I moved so that I was behind him. “Sing this: eh-oooooh.” He tried, but it came from the shallowest level of his chest, so it sounded more like a complaint that a melody. I reached around pushed on his stomach muscles just below his navel. “This is where your singing voice comes from. Open your throat and let the sound come pouring out of you. That’s singing.”
Gently, he put his hand on top of mine, and together we gave his lower stomach a soft push. He tried again, and his voice had a much warmer tone, but it still needed some work.
“Good. That is better. I will write the words out for you in the sand.”
He held my hand for a moment, feeling the knuckles and the back of it with his long, graceful fingers. “You’re a good teacher, Larissa.”
“Well…” Suddenly, my voice failed me. I couldn’t look away from the sight of my small, dark brown hand in his tanned, elongated one. They seemed to fit together so beautifully. I cleared my throat and managed to force out, “It is easy. You are a quick learner.” I quickly snatched my hand away before I could lose my head completely. What was wrong with me? Why was my heart pounding so fast? Shaking my head at my own foolishness, I wrote the words out carefully in the sand.
I found that Black Feather couldn’t sing in my language for more than a few lines without getting his tongue all twisted up, so I focused on the first two lines, planning to add to them as time went on. After his voice had practiced coming out properly, he was able to sing much more sweetly. The two of us faced east and watched the first rays of the sun stretch up into the soft blue sky. I started.
“Eto ianao! Dia hiaro anao; Ianao no lanitra, namako; ry mangatsiatsiaka, mazava fitiavana…”
Black Feather added his harmony to my melody, and together our voices lifted the sun off the line of the horizon. I didn’t look at him. I just watched the sky brighten and clear slowly. It must have been my imagination, but for some reason that day appeared more beautiful than anything I could remember in a long, long time.
That day, while I slept, I dreamed again. In my mind, I was in a beautiful place – lush and green with waterfalls, flowers, and a nearby ocean. It was like home, but even more lovely, with a soft, comforting sunshine all around. I felt incredibly relaxed and happy. I was in the shade and eating a fruit that I remembered from my childhood. The name escaped me as I licked the juice from my hands, and the rush of sugary goodness made me feel young and silly again.
I heard Black Feather’s voice call my name, and then he was sitting next to me. I turned to see him and there, floating and larger than life, were his dark eyes. I could almost step into them. I didn’t feel intimidated in any way, but I did feel a strange excitement at the sight of it. Again, he said my name, but in a soft, lust-filled whisper that made a strange sensation rip through me.
“Larissa. Larissa…” I reached out for him, but he wasn’t there. The beautiful place fell away, and I grappled with the darkness until I touched something solid. Holding on tight, I felt myself dangle in the dark and lose control of my body. My grip was sweaty and uncertain, and soon I was slipping down, down, down until I nearly lost my hold entirely. Just as I was about to drop into the abyss, my eyes opened.
“Larissa.” Black Feather was sitting and watching me with a serious face. My hand was on his arm and clutching him tightly. I swallowed at the sight of it and then snatched it away. “You’re sweating,” he informed me. I started to sit up, but I felt horribly dizzy.
“Oh no,” I said, feeling my forehead. “I am ill. Can you bring me some water?” He stood to fetch some without asking any questions. What had made me so sick? I never came down with anything, even when my friends were all coughing.
Going over the past few days, I tried to recall anything I had eaten that was unusual or dangerous, but nothing came to mind. And both of us had been drinking water from the same source, so I didn’t see how I could have picked up on some bacteria that he had sidestepped.
Shaking my head, I decided it was just bad luck. As I laid on the rocks, I started to cool off. ‘Perhaps I am not so ill.’ But when my only friend in the desert returned, my heart sped up again, and I found myself burning all over as if I were covered in flames.
“I had to carry it in my shirt, so it’s dripping. Drink fast.” He held the bag over me and let me suck the cold water through the cloth. I was so incredibly thirsty, but all I could think about was his bare chest next to me. I told myself to knock it off, but it was impossible. I reached out with my hand, and he took it and held it tight, misunderstanding me. I didn’t push it, just let him feel useful for a moment, which, if I’m being honest, he was.
“Thank you. I am okay.” He didn’t respond, just leaned over and wiped my face with the cool, wet cloth. The drops of water slid down my forehead and drew a line down my nose. One made it all the way to the tip of it and stayed there, quivering.
He let go of my hand and reached out for me. He touched my cheek and, as his hand travelled down, his thumb grazed that stray drop and wiped it away. Then it moved down to my lips and brushed them gently and tentatively. I let them part slightly and gave the tip of his thumb a soft bite, just hard enough to taste him, but not so hard that I would draw any blood. He tasted like salt, wind, and fresh meat.
“Larissa, I–”
“Do not talk.” I pulled him down on top of me and wrapped my arms around his broad, sinewy back. I slid one hand up between his shoulders and the other down toward the waistband of his shorts. The two of us locked eyes. He kept his hands down on the rock below me as if he were ready to lift himself up at any moment, like he wanted to run away.
“Touch me,” I told him. “Touch me without fear.”
“I’m not afraid. It’s just…” He lifted up slightly to scrutinize me a bit better. “Are you alright? You’re acting a little different.”
“Yes,” I told him, “I am different. For years, I knew I was waiting for a man who was worthy of me. I did not want to make love to anyone who was not brave, intelligent, and unique.”
“You think I’m those things?”
I shook my head no. “But you will be. I see now that I am here to help you. If you do everything I tell you,” I pulled him down and stared straight into his eyes from only a centimeter away, “I will reward you. Right here in this cave, every time we lie down to go to sleep. Will you do that? Will you let me make you into the man I know you can be?”
He hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yes,” he breathed, and I smiled. “Anything you say.”
“Good. Now take off your pants.”
His kicked off the last of his clothing in a flurry of movement, fighting them the whole time. I slipped out of my shirt and shorts easily and stood up to face him. Following my lead, he stood as well, but with his pants balled up in his hands.
“Put those down,” I said, nodding at the wad. “You don’t need them.” He set them aside and shyly crossed his arms over his crotch. The sight of it almost made me laugh, but I was smart enough to stop myself. Laughter wouldn’t help matters. “Now come to me,” I told him, leaning back against the rock wall behind me. My hands reached out for him, and he gently took them and then awkwardly stepped closer.
“Careful. Don’t step on me.”
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to. I mean, sorry.”
“You can apologize by kissing my breasts.” I guided his head down to my right breast and then leaned my head back and let my body relax as he sucked on my nipple like an eager servant. I had never felt so confident, so sure of what I wanted before. It was extremely arousing. I reached down between my legs and felt that I was extremely wet, more than I had ever been. He switched sides, and I closed my eyes, loving the feel of him on me, of me giving up and melting against the rock as he devoured me.
His head rose up, and I rewarded him with a kiss. “Touch me,” I whispered in his ear. “Touch me like you love me.” He ran his hands down my ribs and around my waist and then down to my big, round butt. I had my mother’s shape, and she had blessed me with an ample rump that always got me a bit more attention than I would have liked, but she assured me it was better to have some extra curves rather than not enough.
“Slap it.”
He gave one cheek a light slap, and I grabbed his chin. “You call that a slap? Try again.”
A second round gave me the ringing, stinging sensation I was looking for, and I let out a strange, insane laugh. The kind mentally insane humans make. “Again. Again.”
He got into the spirit and really let me have it, filling our little enclave with delicious, sharp sounds and grabbing my cheeks in between spankings to give me a nice squeeze. I turned around and stood with my legs apart. “A few more. I love it. You are so good at this.”
He complied, but the moment passed as quickly as it had come, and we both softened a bit and melted into one another. He slid his arms around me and kissed my neck and then travelled down my shoulder blades, his hands caressing my breasts. I reached down and back to feel his hips and bring them closer to me.
“Do it. Do it now.”
“Here?”
“That’s what I said. Do it! And stop being so shy. I want you to show me what a big, strong man you are.” That was all he needed to hear. His long, hard erection slid into me from behind, and I felt myself open for him. The pleasure was almost more than I could stand and ripped through me from my toes to my scalp. He drove himself in deeper and harder, not relenting for a moment. I relished the feel of his hips pushing into me in a steady, yet somehow desperate rhythm. I leaned back so my head was on his shoulder and just enjoyed the feel of him as he pumped back and forth.
“I’m coming,” he whispered.
“Good. Do it.” I grabbed his neck and pressed my face against his ear. His neck felt strong and sturdy under my hand which made me very happy. I wanted him strong.
“Oh, I…I…oh, Larissa…” He jerked and shook a bit as his orgasm overtook his body. I waited until he was done and slipped out of me before I turned around. He had a ridiculous, cocky smile on his face and was reaching out for me. “Come here and lie down with me.”
“In a moment.” I settled back against the rocks and reached down to touch myself in that spot that I liked so much. I knew it was the most sensitive part of my whole body, and anytime I bothered it I was rewarded with a nice, warm climax. This time, however, the usual loveliness was interrupted.
“What are you doing?” Black Feather, now my lover, asked me, a horrible tone in his voice. “Don’t do that.”
I stopped to walk over to him and put a solitary finger in his chest. “Let’s get one thing straight, my little bird,” I said through a set jaw. “I am in charge of how I feel, not you. If I want to pleasure myself, I will. Understood?”
He blanched for a moment, but he backed up with a quick nod that told me he was acquiescing to me fully. Relieved, I leaned back and enjoyed myself, felt the warm wetness between my legs, and brought myself to a lovely, full orgasm. Afterward, I laid down in my usual spot and took a nap. I didn’t look to see what Black Feather was up to; I knew he wouldn’t wander too far.
The next few nights were frustrating. I kept trying to train Black Feather for life in the desert, and he kept trying to interrupt me with kisses and touches. Every few minutes, I had to swat his hand away like an annoying mosquito.
“Focus. This place wants to kill you and eat your flesh. If you can survive the Nothing, you can survive anything.”
“I am focused. I’m focused on you,” he would say with his crooked smile.
“Stop it. Look, the beetle we were tracking slipped away from us. That’s what focusing on love will get you.”
That comment made him stop and consider me a little more seriously. “Are you in love with me, Larissa?”
I froze. Was I? I had never been in love before. The only love I had ever known was for my family, and they stopped speaking to me long before I left the compound. I loved science and the pursuit of knowledge, but that wasn’t the same. Did I love Black Feather?
“What I feel for you is something strong, but it is not the kind of love you are talking about.”
He crinkled up his nose at me and crossed his arms. “You’re spending every night with a man you don’t love? You broke a man you don’t care for out of Bachmann’s prison?” He moved a little closer. “If this isn’t love, what is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I mean, there is something. But, I do not have a name for it. I am not sure what to call it.”
“Sounds like love to me.”
For whatever reason, that made me angry. I had to push the emotion down and rub it away from my face. “Listen to me,” I tried again, “we can talk about all of this when the sun comes up. We are losing valuable time.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. “Perhaps my love has to be won. Show me you are committed to learning, and I may begin to open my heart. But the more you frustrate me,” I opened my eyes, stepped closer to him, and bore down on him with my hard, serious stare, “the greater the chance I’ll leave you out here alone. Then we’ll see what you focus on.”
He nodded, and I saw a shift in him at that moment. After our stand-off in the sand, he backed off with the affections and little attempts to seduce me. He finally just let me be in charge, and I did warm up a bit. He worked on his hunting in both human and bird form, though he was a natural as an animal. Black Feather’s parents had both worked for the government for many years, so hunting had never been a necessity for either. They simply took their checks home and went to the store in the old shifter neighborhood. On the compound, they went to the food stand three times a day. I’d always seen them there when I went to help my mom fry up the mice and serve the sage water we made every day.
As a bird, Black Feather was a species called a red kite. He did have some lovely, deep red feathers, but they were overpowered by the large amount of black in his plumage. He explained to me that his family had come to the State from another side of the ocean, like mine, and that where he was from, there were many red kites.
“My dad told me he and his friends used to have flying contests all the time,” he said one morning as he held me after our lovemaking. “They would have to perform all kinds of tricks – swoop down and snag a coin from the tall grass, fly through hoops, fly through a narrow path between two planks of wood, all kinds of things. He loved it, but after a while they were outlawed.”
I looked at him while he was lost in his memories. He didn’t look comfortable in his mental state, but rather like a little boy squirming in his seat. “What happened?”
“A little girl was killed.”
I sat up, shocked. “What? How? By one of the red kite shifters?”
He shook his head. “No one was sure what happened. Something attacked her while everyone was watching the competition. Back then,” he explained, “the locals didn’t mind seeing some people change into animals. They saw it as fun, a kind of entertainment. But after someone lost their daughter to some strange attack, everything changed.
“Suddenly, we were the enemy. My dad and his friends offered to find the killer, to bring him, or her to justice, but by then no one was listening. All the shifters were separated out from the human community. They were denied things like electricity and running water, so soon they were dirty and rough-looking. My dad said he barely recognized his hometown after just a few months of living away from the humans.
“People became meaner, shifters grew more and more scared, everyone was angry. To his surprise, my father found himself accused of the murder and suddenly being informed that he could leave town for good or go to jail. My mom was pregnant with me, so he chose the former.”
I put my hand to my heart in shock. “Your father?! He could never kill someone.”
Black Feather shrugged. “I know that. But, for whatever reason, people turned on him. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but one night while my mom was out, he told me some of the details. He said the girl’s body had horrible claw marks going across it, and that it did appear as if a large bird had gashed her. But the more he tried to figure out who had done it, the more dead ends he found himself in. None of the shifters he knew were violent or seemed to have any reason to kill a child.
“The worst part,” Black Feather continued as he held me closer, “was that not long after we’d left, another murder, almost identical to the first, happened just a short distance from the original. Even though it proved my father’s innocence, he was still too scared to go home.”
I shook my head. “It was a human. I’m positive.”
He yawned. “Me too. But there’s no proof. And the murder was done in such a way so that a shifter would get blamed. So, what can we do?”
I had no answer, so I fell silent. In a few minutes, Black Feather was asleep, but I had that girl’s bloody body burned into my mind. Even though I hadn’t been there, I felt as if I had witnessed each step of her demise.
In my imagination, I saw a lonely, quiet man who observed a sweet, laughing girl as she played with her friends and ran in the grass. Then, he tried to befriend her, but her instincts told her this was not someone she could trust. She ran away. He became angry and began to plot and scheme. He decided if he couldn’t have her in his life, she couldn’t have a life of her own.
Maybe he did do something to her, something awful, and became frightened she would tell someone. I could see him using a special tool or weapon he had made himself, something in the shape of a claw to tear her flesh open and leave her to die on the grass. Poor angel. She never stood a chance. The violence of humans is simply too deep and too inescapable.
I slept long after Black Feather had nodded off and woke before the sun had finished setting. I walked out to the edge of our little stone house and watched it go down, and saying a prayer for that little girl. I prayed for her soul and for peace of mind for her family. Just because I was angry, it didn’t mean I had to wish anyone any violence.
After all, I’m no human.