by S. E. Smith
A shudder ran through him and his eyelashes lowered until they lay like twin crescents on his high cheekbones. She carefully laid his hand across his stomach. Her eyes studied the sky and she fervently hoped that her father would be too busy tonight to realize what she was doing.
Her brothers and sisters would look down on her and wonder if she had lost her mind, but they would keep her secret. They knew her heart was too tender to ignore a cry for help. She returned her attention to the warrior as she thought of the people of this world. He would need warmth to keep the cold of the night at bay and to help protect him.
Angeni rose to her feet. She gathered the dry, broken branches littered around the area and built a fire ring. At her soft request, one of her brothers sent a small spark to light the wood. Next, she called to the wind to weave her soft blankets made from the cotton plants.
Soon, the warrior lay on a thick pallet formed by the wind. Angeni hummed softly as she removed his clothing. The song she sang healed the dark bruises and sealed the deep cuts. Her hands paused over his ribs. Three of them were cracked and a sharp edge had punctured his left lung.
She focused on the song of healing she was weaving. Threads of healing power extended from her and wove around his body. The colorful threads of life seeped through his flesh, mending bones and torn flesh. The song on her lips faded when she looked up and saw that he was watching her.
“Don’t… stop,” he murmured.
A tender smile curved her lips. “Sleep, warrior,” she instructed.
Her fingers traced along his brow. He fought her command, but she wove a spell of healing sleep into her touch. His eyelids fluttered before they closed.
Angeni swallowed as she continued to caress him. How could he hear her? See her? Feel her touch? There was something different about him that both frightened and fascinated her. He was a man of Earth, one destined to live a short life before he returned to the soil. Yet, the idea of his death repulsed her. She did not want him to die.
Her gaze lowered to his lips. They were slightly parted. Her hand slid down to his chest. He was breathing normally now that the injuries to his ribs and lung were healed. She leaned over him and hesitated a brief moment before she tenderly laid her lips against his in a brief kiss.
“Sleep, warrior. I will watch over you,” she promised.
Chapter 4
Aditsan lay still, listening to the morning birds. He kept his eyes closed, allowing his other senses—especially his hearing—to take over. It was as if he was hearing the world around him for the first time.
The soft buzz of bees moving from flower to flower sounded unusually loud. The wind swept along the ground and he picked out the faint sound of sand being shifted. There were other sounds. The waterfall flowing into the basin, the rush of the water across rocks, the chirps of the birds, and the patter of a small rodent looking for a last meal before the sun came up.
Mixed within the sounds was a lilting voice that soothed his soul. He slowly opened his eyes and gazed upward. He was lying under a protected section of the cliff.
A frown creased his brow when he realized something else—his body didn’t hurt. He slid his hand across his stomach before gingerly assessing his ribs. The flesh was smooth instead of torn. It was then he realized two things. First, that he wasn’t wearing any clothing; and second, that he was covered by a soft blanket.
He reached up and fingered the blanket, wondering if he was hallucinating. The thick cotton fibers were familiar against his skin. He lifted his hand and studied it. The flesh was no longer raw and sore. He wiggled his fingers, closing and opening them.
The next test was to sit up. If he could do that without pain, then either he was dead and didn’t realize it or somehow he’d been found, taken to the hospital, healed over the course of a few months, and redeposited to the exact spot where he had collapsed.
My being dead makes more sense, he wryly thought before he grimaced.
Do dead people have to take a piss? he wondered when the familiar pressure of his bladder demanded relief.
He reached for his breeches that were neatly folded and shook them out. They looked like they had been dry cleaned! With a shake of his head at his wayward thoughts, he pushed the blanket aside and stood up.
He almost lost his balance when he tried to shove his foot through the opening too quickly and it caught on the material while he scanned the area. He pulled the leather breeches up, but left the Concha belt undone.
His shirt and moccasins were at the end of his makeshift bed. He sat down and pulled the moccasins on before grabbing his shirt. He pulled the clean shirt over his head and tugged it down. He stood again, noting the thick layer of blankets and the still smoldering fire.
“Call of nature first, then find out what in the hell is going on,” he muttered.
He strode a short distance away and took care of business before walking down to the shallow river to wash his hands and face. He squatted and stared at the flowing river before he shoved his hands into the water. The chill sent a shiver through him and he rubbed his hands together as he processed that what he was doing was real.
He cupped his hands, scooping up the water and lifted a handful to his face. He took a deep breath and buried his face in the water before rubbing his cold, wet hands over the back of his neck. A shiver ran down his spine when some of the water seeped under the collar of his shirt and trickled down his back.
“This feels like I’m still alive,” he said under his breath.
He lifted an arm to dry his face when a movement across the river caught his attention. Slowly rubbing the dampness from his face against the soft material, he remained in place as he watched the woman approaching him. She held a large basket in her hands and moved with surprising grace over the uneven ground.
She was wearing a beautiful black and red Navajo Blanket dress that stopped just below her knees. White and red moccasin wraps covered her lower legs and feet. The dress was accented with a silver and turquoise belt with matching turquoise and silver jewelry. Her long black hair flowed freely around her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was also the woman who had haunted his dreams last night.
He carefully rose to his feet. The last thing he wanted to do was startle her. She stopped when she saw him standing and they stared at each other in silence like two wary predators wondering who would make the first move. Her lips curved into a hesitant smile and she began walking again.
“Watch out,” he cautioned when he saw her place a foot on one of the large round stones in the river. She raised an eyebrow. He waved a hand down at the stone. “It might be slippery. Let me help you.”
Before he could move, she crossed the river. He lifted a hand and rubbed it across his eyes. It was strange, but it looked more like she floated across. He shook his head.
Maybe I’m having a mental breakdown and none of yesterday really happened, he thought.
That was the only thing that made any sense. It was possible he had suffered a case of mild sun stroke or had a bout with dehydration and this woman had found him. His hand went to his shirt. There were no tears or any evidence of blood.
“I… thank you. It would appear that something happened…. I…. Can you tell me what the hell is going on?” he demanded.
She paused in front of him. His hands shot out when she held out the basket. He looked down and almost groaned when he saw the bounty of food inside. His head jerked back to her when she stepped around him and continued to the small campsite where he had awakened.
“My name is Aditsan Claw, by the way,” he called after her.
He shook his head when she merely looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. Not only was he going crazy—or had gone crazy—he was doing it with a sexy hallucination that made his mouth water to kiss that smile right off her lips. The thought that he might be dead again was interrupted when his stomach growled.
“Well, if I am delusional, at least it comes with a gorgeous woman and a meal,�
�� he said with a sigh.
Chapter 5
Aditsan sat on a medium size boulder and placed the items on the woven plate that he hadn’t noticed at first. The woman sat across from him on another rock. The early morning sun brightened the other side of the canyon. The rays from it struck the layers of sediment and made the tiny rock crystals sparkle. The entire effect made it appear as if an artist had taken a paintbrush to the walls.
“My name is Aditsan Claw,” he introduced again.
She tilted her head and continued to stare at him in silence. He absently picked up a piece of bread and placed it on the plate. He added several pieces of fruit to go with it before holding the woven dish out to her.
He nodded to the plate when she looked at it with a frown. There was only one plate. He would use the basket. He frowned when she didn’t take his offering.
“This is for you. You did bring the food, after all. It wouldn’t be right to eat without offering you a dish first,” he said.
“The—food is for your consumption,” she softly responded.
He released a low chuckle. “So, you can talk,” he said with satisfaction.
“And you can hear me,” she replied as if surprised.
“I’d feel better if you ate with me,” he said.
She reached out and took the offered food from him with a puzzled expression. He reached into the basket and pulled out another loaf of bread, surprised that it was still warm. He tore a piece off and popped it into his mouth. She copied him, moving hesitantly as if the act of eating was foreign to her.
“You never told me your name,” he said.
“Name,” she repeated before her lips curled in that mysterious smile again. “Angeni, I am called Angeni.”
“Angeni. Thank you,” he said.
“You are feeling better?” she asked.
He frowned and nodded. “Yes… no… I’m not sure,” he admitted with a strained chuff of laughter.
She placed the bread she was holding on the plate and set it on the rock next to her before she stood up. He warily watched as she stepped around the fire pit. She raised her hand and gently laid it against his forehead, as if checking to see if he had a fever.
He stiffened when a tingling sensation prickled his flesh. Not sure what was happening, he reached up and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. He stiffened with surprise when his hand appeared to pass right through her arm when she stepped backwards.
“Your body has healed, though. You are no longer in pain?” she inquired.
He dropped his piece of bread into the basket and set it aside. She took another step back when he rose to his feet. A strange suspicion formed in his mind and he didn’t like what he was thinking.
“What’s going on? Who are you and who put you up to this? Are you slipping me drugs?” he demanded.
She appeared oblivious to his growing anger. His sharp gaze took in the expressions crossing her face. Nothing pointed to anything deceitful or nefarious, but something was off, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.
“I don’t understand,” she softly replied.
“You don’t— I want to know what is going on. Yesterday—” He stopped and lifted both hands to run them through his hair in frustration before he turned to face the river. “Yesterday I fell off a damn cliff and nearly broke my neck. I did break some ribs, suffered a five-inch gash in my side, tore up my hands, knees, and had a concussion. I was—dying. My lung—” His hand moved to his left side. “I couldn’t breathe well.” He turned and stared at her with a hard, searching gaze. “I was drowning in my own blood, dammit all to hell. I was dying!”
“Yes.”
Her simple reply took him by surprise. “It really happened. I was—dying,” he choked on the last word.
“Yes,” she said.
He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t form. His eyes ran over her as he tried to make sense of the impossible. She continued to watch him with a curious, innocent expression.
“How?” he finally asked in a hoarse voice.
“You asked for help,” she said.
“I asked—” he stopped and thought.
Grandfather, help me.
He had asked for help. Flashes of memory, fogged by pain, poured through his mind. He remembered the fall, the journey along the canyon wall to the river, his collapse at the end, and finally his certainty that he would be dead before anyone found him. He also remembered the first moment Angeni had touched him.
“I don’t understand,” he said, echoing her earlier response.
She stepped closer to him and placed her hand over his heart. He tentatively lifted his hand and laid it over hers. She smiled at him.
“Your body was broken and I healed it,” she explained.
Mesmerized by the compassion in her eyes, he leaned toward her. He held back a breath from her lips, giving her a chance to pull away from him. When she didn’t, he captured her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss.
His hand slid along her arm and up to her neck while he wrapped his other arm around her waist. Her lips parted under his and he deepened the kiss, marveling at her response. He was vaguely aware of her hands sliding up to his shoulders.
She was real. This wasn’t a dream. He reluctantly ended their kiss, but didn’t release her.
“Angeni,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers.
“I must go,” she said, a slight tremble in her voice.
The protest on his lips faded when he suddenly found himself standing alone. His gaze wildly searched for Angeni, but she had disappeared. Fear gripped him by the throat at the thought that maybe he was going crazy until he saw the basket and the blankets.
With trembling fingers, he reached for the basket. The coarse grass was stiff. He lifted the basket to his nose and sniffed. The faint aroma of the woven grasses mixed with the smell of freshly baked bread and the sweet scent of the fruit. He wrapped his arms around the basket and hugged it against his chest.
“When will I see you again?” he called out.
“Tonight.”
The faint response drifted to him on the wind. He would see her again tonight. He leaned back against the rock and breathed deep, calming breaths.
“Thank you, Grandfather,” he murmured, looking up at the sky and grinning.
Chapter 6
Aditsan spent the day exploring the canyon. He followed the river for nearly six miles before he turned around and made his way back to camp. Along the way he discovered places that time had forgotten.
The outer walls of the cliffs contained Navajo pictographs. He spent several hours studying them and looking for more. The stories reminded him of the ones his grandfather used to tell him about—a time when the great people of the Navajo nation roamed from Canada down to Mexico.
His real life seemed surreal at the moment. After all, with the press of a mouse button or a message to George, he flew all over the world. Aditsan ran his hands down along the soft leather breeches. He didn’t miss the expensive suits or the designer jeans that he normally wore.
The sun had settled over the western wall of the canyon by the time he returned to camp. He stripped out of his clothing, draping it over a rock, and waded into the pool. He wanted to wash away the sweat and grime before Angeni returned.
“Angeni, what you are doing is forbidden,” Dyami stated in a firm voice.
Angeni ignored her brother and continued gliding over the area where lightning had created a small fire the day before. She should have known he would have seen what she was doing. The large eagle swooped down and Dyami shifted so he could walk beside her.
“Go away, Dyami,” she finally said.
He reached out and touched her arm. She released a sigh and opened her hand. The seeds she was spreading were caught by her sigh and scattered on the wind.
This will not be my best work, she thought with a touch of resignation.
“Angeni, you know it is forbidden to interfere with the world of people,” he
quietly admonished.
“I know,” she replied, refusing to look at him.
He stepped in front of her. “You are going to see him again. Why?” he murmured.
“I don’t know,” she confessed.
“Father will be furious,” he warned.
She laughed and looked at him with twinkling eyes. “When isn’t he? Besides, Mother will soothe him,” she playfully retorted.
Dyami shook his head. “Out of all of us, I never expected you to be the rebel,” he grudgingly confessed.
“I have my moments,” she teased.
“I’ll do my best to keep Father distracted until you come back to your senses,” he muttered.
Angeni hovered over the burned ground and watched as her brother transformed back into an eagle and flew away. Her focus returned to the scorched earth and she sighed again. She truly hoped that Dyami was successful, otherwise cleaning up the mess might take a while.
She looked up at the clear sky. “Huyana, I need you,” she called.
A cloud formed over the scorched area where she spread the wildflower seeds and a gentle rain began to fall. The cloud dissolved after a few minutes. Satisfied that the seeds would have the ash from the fire to feed them and the water from her sister to help wash them into the soil, she turned her attention to the canyon where Aditsan waited.
“Aditsan, I’m coming,” she whispered, her soft call riding on the wind.
Aditsan treaded water and swiveled as a breeze blew across the water. He closed his eyes and listened. Above the sound of the waterfall he caught the faint murmur of his name.
The soft caress of hands on his shoulders startled him. He opened his eyes. Angeni’s shining brown eyes stared back at him with an expression that took his breath away.
“You came back,” he murmured.
She smiled at him. “I promised I would,” she gently replied.
His arms wrapped around her waist and he drew her against his body. His breath hissed out when her bare flesh caressed his. He captured her lips, parting them.