Reading Online Novel

People of the Thunder(61)



As I lift the edge of his blanket, he stirs, still half locked in the Dream. He blinks, struggling to wake. My cool fingers find his lips, stilling the question that rises in his throat. With my other hand I reach down, feeling him already hard under his shirt and breech-cloth. Perhaps that is why I must act now, to counter the Power of his Dream with my own.

He watches me, mystified, as I untie his breechcloth, letting it fall away from his slim hips. Freed of restraint, his shaft is bathed in the soft light. I let my fingers slip down its firm length. At my touch, his body stiffens, growing as hard as his member.

My hair falls around us as I straddle him. I have seen this moment, waited for it. Brother Moon has timed my body for him. My blood rushes, heart beating with anticipation as I place the point of his shaft into my moist sheath. As I settle, the length of him fills me. The sensation is new, urgent, and wonderfully uncomfortable. I stare down into his moon-filled eyes, savoring the miracle.

His mouth opens as I begin to rotate my hips. His hands rise, closing on my breasts, rolling them with each motion my desperate loins crave.

For the moment, we are eternal, playing our part in the endless ritual of life.

When he finally arches against me, I tighten, awed by the Power of his release jetting inside me. The rising tingle is my only warning before a pulsating rush of pleasure shoots lightning through my hips, up my back, and down my legs.

When it is finished, when I can breathe again, I roll to the side, trapping his fluids inside.

Why? The question fills his eyes.

“Because you are the future,” I tell him softly.



Two Petals stood naked in the moonlight, bathed in the soft white radiance. She had been drawn to this open spot, free of the shadows cast by high branches. The moon filled her, glowing on her skin, her nipples no more than dark dots on her round breasts. She raised her arms, letting the light flow over her. A faint breeze shifted her long dark hair where it hung down her back.

She heard the soft steps approaching from behind and waited until they came to a stop to her right. Just as in the Dream, she relived the moment as Whippoorwill raised her arms to the moonlight. They stood silently, side by side, arms raised, naked bodies illuminated by the glow.

“We have Danced the first steps,” she whispered.

Whippoorwill’s hushed voice spoke—the Dream inside Two Petals’ head saying, “We are bound.”

Even across the distance, Two Petals could hear the sweet Song of her husband. It wound over the hills, through the trees, and across the leaf-strewn ground. She felt herself sway with it, and closed her eyes, letting the musical strains mingle with her souls. I hear you, husband.

In time to the Albaamo woman’s voice, the Dream said, “He knows you are coming. Have you Dreamed a way to obtain the copper?”

“Yes.” She sighed, lowering her arms as the Song faded. An empty longing opened in her souls. “It will be difficult. Tricking a clever and suspicious man is perilous at best, but he has weaknesses.”

“He and deceit are old companions. He breathes treachery with every heartbeat.”

“There are things I must learn in order to distract him.”

“Use them well. His slightest suspicion will mean disaster for all.” Whippoorwill lowered her arms. Her long black hair seemed to gather the darkness as it hung over the rounded globes of her buttocks. The woman’s slender legs were firmly braced, her bare feet on the leaves beside a rolled dress.

Two Petals said, “Trader and Old White will need you when the time comes.”

“I know.”

Two Petals turned her gaze to the forest, seeing the black shape slipping through the shadows. A large black wolf stepped into the moonlight and fixed luminous yellow eyes on them. The animal lowered his head in canine greeting.

“Your guide has come.”

They shared one final glance, bits and pieces of visions and Dreams flowing between them like colors of light.

“In the future, when you Dance, Dance for me.”

“Always,” Whippoorwill’s Dream voice replied.

Then the woman reached down, lifted her dress from the leaves, and slipped it over her head. She walked to the wolf, each step airy. The Spirit animal turned to match her pace, and they disappeared into the shadows.



Paunch didn’t know what to make of the Seeker. He had heard of the man—who hadn’t? But he’d always believed him to be a legend. And that was a problem. How did a lowly Albaamo farmer deal with a living legend? Especially one who had used a priceless copper gorget to purchase said farmer and his granddaughter’s lives?

For the moment, unable to think of anything else, he cooked breakfast.

The sun was casting its first faint rays over the trees and into their camp on the levee. Paunch shot nervous glances at the roll of blankets where the old man was sleeping, wondering what Dreams hovered inside that old white head. Trader and his dog had slept farther out, away from the camp. But then—for all Paunch knew—perhaps he always did.