“I avoided the circle,” Bilana felt the need to add. “I didn’t know if it was blessed or not. I know that is… bad…” She trailed off as the younger warrior’s glare got stronger.
“You have desecrated a sacred ceremony.” He growled, stepping toward her, but paused when the elder warrior — Chaska — stepped into his path.
“If she was not meant to be here, she would not be here,” the female elder repeated, amusement in her tone.
“And I have chosen her as my own,” Chaska repeated. “There is no trespass.”
“You were to choose one of the appropriate women presented,” the angry one all but shouted in Chaska’s face. “You fought me for the honor to choose.”
“And I won the right to choose.” Chaska still sounded patient and still stood protectively before Bilana, so she was really rooting for the guy. After all, he was saving her from being silenced.
Silenced. The many and varied meanings of that term rolled through her head. It could mean something as simple as having to sign a gag order or as bad as having her tongue cut out. Or even worse… would an Indian make someone swim with the fishes?
This was South Dakota! Was there any water deep enough for them to hide her body?
“He chose me!” Bilana repeated, just in case there was any doubt. And to ensure there wasn’t, she reached out and gripped the arm of the naked, white-haired skunk man who did not stink.
“I have chosen.”
His word seemed to be final as the younger warrior stepped back, the female elder chuckled softly, and the male elder finally made a move.
“Then it is decided.” His voice was even deeper that Chaska’s, she realized, though she could not see any resemblance even in his wrinkled visage.
The younger groused a bit, but finally turned and walked away, the elders following. This left Bilana in the room with the naked skunk-man. She didn’t know if she should be happy or scared.
“So…”
“Where are you parked?” Chaska asked.
“Huh?”
“Where are you parked? It is time we left before someone else comes up with an excuse to stop this.”
“What exactly is this?” she asked. “I mean, the whole naked after you turned into a skunk thing. I have to ask ’cause I seriously have to know before I freak the hell out.”
His eyes glittered at her for a moment, then he spun around and walked over to a low table she had not noticed before. There he picked up a pair of dark-colored jeans.
She couldn’t help but peek as he bent to pull the clothing up corded calves and rock-hard thighs. It looked like her skunk-man worked out a lot. But then she had seen him dance on his hands.
He reached under the table to pull out a pair of the most beautiful beaded leather moccasins she had ever seen, and that included some of the most elaborate face dance regalia. He easily balanced on one foot and then the other, tugging the calf-high boots on. He bent over to adjust the fit, and Bilana had to acknowledge that he had a fine ass, the squeezable soft kind that always begged for a pinch.
While she was contemplating giving in to the call of Father Goose, he slipped on a tank top and turned to face her. “Ready?”
“For answers? Yes.”
“It’s a long story.” He smiled at her, showing curiously sharp teeth. “It spans generations, and I don’t think here is the place to tell it. After all, I was invited here. I am not a member of this particular tribe, though I am family. I think it best we leave before we make ourselves unwelcome.”
“I’m the one who is not appropriate,” she pointed out, but turned to exit the area the way she came in.
Once inside the main tent, she carefully avoided the ceremonial circle, stepping carefully around it as she made her way toward the exit, Chaska following.
“This had better be good,” she muttered, and he grinned in return.
“It’s a story to die for,” he promised her.
Funny — his wording didn’t make her feel any better.
Chapter Three
She vaguely remembered the trip back to her hotel. She was still hazy from the pain meds, and that delicious, musky scent that covered him seemed to intensify in her truck. She made the trip on autopilot, and could barely remember parking outside of the small townhouse she’d rented on the hotel property.
But she snapped to when she felt the door to the driver’s side open, and a set of curious brown eyes peered at her. “Are you okay?” Chaska asked.
“You did change into a large skunk?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Then I guess I’m fine.”
He stepped back and watched her as she fumbled with the keys in the ignition and finally reached around to the back seat to pull out her camera case. As soon as it was in her hand, Chaska removed the bag from her grip and held his arm out for her to grasp.
She stared at it, mute, for a moment before she reached out and rested her palm on his forearm. It was like touching corded steel. She gripped his arm, and there was almost no give at all, almost no play in the muscles. He was like a solid wall. But then, he would be if he spent a lot of time dancing around on his hands.
She looked up into his face and felt a wave of embarrassment as she noted his arched eyebrow.
“Sorry,” she managed to say in an even tone. “I guess I’m not used to having, you know, gentlemanly behavior directed at me.”
“And that is a shame, indeed.” He looked almost angry for a second, then his expression cleared. “Someone with such a gentle spirit should be cherished.”
And what could she say to that? Bilana always had a hard time accepting compliments, probably because she had gotten so few of them during her formative years. She was a geek and a nerd and proud of it. Her interest in photography and folklore from an early age left her an outcast. The abrasive attitude she developed helped protect her and stood her in good stead in a profession dominated by men. She was just lucky enough to get a university grant to photograph the pow-wows and the Native American lifestyle that she loved, recording the changes in the closed group dynamic that had developed over the years.
And now she was standing with a man who had to be someone straight out of a myth. She was fascinated and a little bit intimidated, but oddly enough, not afraid. She was more afraid of the younger fighter and the elders than she was of this white-haired man.
“So…” He took a step back, drawing her from her truck like a lord assisting a lady from a carriage. “Are we going in?”
“Um, yeah.” She shook her head, clearing it of the past and her private thoughts about herself, preparing to fill it with the awe and mystery that seemed to make up this man. She allowed him to pull her from the truck and stepped gingerly onto the ground.
Evenings in South Dakota were almost as hot as the day. The air was dry, and she blessed the lack of humidity that would have strangled her lungs otherwise. She looked around at the hotel grounds and sighed deeply. Why did South Dakota have to be so fucked up? The weather sucked.
“Over there.” She pointed toward the townhouse she rented, noting someone had left a paper on the front stoop.
The walk there was silent, Chaska saying nothing but acting the gentleman, placing her away from the street side of the sidewalk during their brief sojourn.
She was still silent when she slid the key in the lock and ushered him inside.
“So.” She sighed. “Wanna let me in on all of this?” She motioned him to follow her into the living area that took up most of the first floor.
“All of this?” He placed her camera case on the long coffee table in front of the couch and stepped back. He gestured for her to take a seat and she smiled and did so, thinking that at least he wouldn’t silence her without warning her first.
“So?” she asked again, as she watched him settle beside her.
“So, I’m a skunk.”
She blinked at him before reaching for her camera case. “Tell me something I don’t know!” She flipped her viewfinder on
and began to scroll through the photos. She flipped the camera around and stuck the image of him growling at the younger warrior in his face.
“It’s a nice one. Can I get a copy?”
“Explain!”
Chaska chuckled and leaned forward, his long braid sliding forward like a snake.
“How much do you know about skin walkers?”
“Huh?”
“Skin walkers.”
“My major was Native culture and mythology. I know what a skin walker is.”
“Then you know the story of Aniwye.”
“Aniwye? Didn’t he hunt men down and spray them to death?” Even as she said the words, her eyes grew round in her face and she shrank back into the couch.
“In some legends, true.” He rolled his eyes. “But in the Dakota legends, Aniwye was a brutal killer. The actual story is a little different.”
“As spoken by you.”
“As spoken by my whole tribe, my elders, and most importantly, my ancestors.”
“I know people have just begun to write the legends down over the past thirty years —”
“Yes. We didn’t have a written language until about thirty years ago. But trust me, the oral tradition is accurate in some things. I think I am proof enough.”
As he spoke, he lifted his right hand, and she watched in amazement as fur began to sprout thickly and his fingers bent over until his whole hand resembled a
furry, black paw. Before she could actually begin her freak out, the fur reversed, sinking back into his skin, and once again, she was staring at a well-formed, slim, masculine hand.
“You —” she stammered, “y-you need a manicure.” And that sounded so stupid to her own ears that she slammed the palm of her hand on her forehead and shook her head in shame.
His laughter made her open her eyes and peer up at him. “It won’t help.” He chuckled. “But if you are willing to listen?”
“Start talking.”
“Okay, as it was told to me, once upon a time an Indian maiden was born. She was beautiful and perfectly formed in every way, except that she had a head of white hair. Her family and the medicine man took this to mean that she was special, that her beauty would be legendary. And it was. The people came from miles around to admire the Indian maiden with the hair of snow and the beauty of a summer’s morning. But all that attention caused her to become vain and puffed up with pride. She would spend all day brushing her hair by the riverside and perfuming her body with the petals of flowers. Instead of putting people off, this only encouraged the young braves to vie for her hand. And she turned away each and every one, but they kept asking. She would tell them why would she waste her beauty on plain-looking men? She was meant for better things.”
“A bit of a Narcissus, wasn’t she?” Bilana put in.
“Very much so.” Chaska chuckled. “In fact, she was so vain, she declared that only a god would be fit for her beauty.”
“And she got punished for it?”
“Oh, yes. One day when she was brushing her hair by the river, a wrinkled old man came up to her and complimented her on her beauty and asked for her hand. Now, he was an extremely homely old man, wrinkled and short, smelling of pond water and old earth, wearing the oldest of worn and rotting leathers. And of course she told him,
‘Why would I take your hand, as old and ugly as you are? I am fit for better things. I am fit for gods. Now go away! Leave me alone!’”
“But she was in for a surprise. For the wrinkled old man pulled off his garments and there emerged Turtle, handsome, healthy and very godlike. Then the maiden was excited, ready to take the hand of the god she had seduced with her beauty, but she was in for another surprise. Turtle would have none of her.
“‘You think you are fit for gods because of your beauty? Well, I tell you this.
From this day forth, the very sight of you will disgust people. When the braves see you coming, they will run in horror. And that is not all. The very smell of you will be enough to make people vomit. For no longer will you smell of flowers, and no longer will The People lie in awe of your beauty. Everyone will run at the very sight of you!’
And her beautiful skin became furry and dark. And the smell of the flowers she rubbed into her skin was replaced with a repugnant odor. She had become the skunk. The only sign of the woman she once was, was the white stripe down the skunk’s back.”
He finished speaking and smiled at her.
She frowned. “And that explains what?”
“That explains my ancestors.”
“But you are not a skunk… well, not all the time,” she allowed.
“No, but that is not all of the legend.”
“There is more?”
“Yes. After a few years, the maiden learned her lesson. She avoided The People but she remained on the outskirts. She used her smell to herd animals toward her village. She left tufts of her fur to be used as medicine. And eventually, Turtle saw she had learned her lesson. With that, he changed her curse. She would only be a skunk sometimes. As long as she lived her life in benefit to the people, she could retain her beauty and her human form. This she did, but as a warning and a reminder, each of her children carried the same curse and the same burden as their Mother. The curse has been handed down from generation to generation until this day.”
“And you are her descendant?”
“Yes.”
“And I am supposed to believe this?”
“Well, you saw me turn into a skunk.”
He had a point. So Bilana just sat back and tried to take this all in. “You are a legend,” she said finally after several beats of silence.
“My many times great-grandmother was a legend. I am the poor fool who got caught with her curse.”
“But… this is amazing!” She smiled at the thought of what they could do with this information. “I mean, your DNA alone must be outstanding! Who knows, maybe inside your genes is the cure for cancer, Alzheimer’s, paraplegics! You have to —”
“I don’t think so.”
“But…” Her words trailed off as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why not?”
“You can’t tell anyone what you saw.”
“But — but the world… we need… Why?”
“What do you think the government would do to me and my people?”
“Uh…” Suddenly she remembered all those alien autopsies and government conspiracies. “Maybe…”
“Are we speaking of the same government that used biological warfare on their own people to collect data on syphilis and gonorrhea?”
She could not argue with that.
“If they got their hands on me, it would be the last you saw of me and my family in one piece.”
“Well, hell,” she sighed, slumping back in her chair. “And this is how you are supposed to help people?”
His eyes hardened, and he sat up, his gaze growing hard and cold. “I give my blood, my essence, and the skin from my back to my people, woman. I spend every moment of my life trapped in the reality of what I am. I can give no more.”
“But the medicine —”
“Is given freely by my people. But is it our fault you and your kind refuse to believe in our ways?”
“Now hold up just one minute!” She was indignant, and she made no effort to hide it. “Don’t you dare paint me with the same brush you use to tar and feather others who don’t want to listen. I made it my life’s ambition to learn about The People’s ways.
And I do my utmost to respect them.”
“And that is why you have such a lovely photo grouping on your camera.”
“I was going to delete them if it was not acceptable for me to have them. That is why I followed you all into that back room.”
“And I should believe you because?”
“Because if what you said was true, and if you believe in the words of the elders, I would have never made it into that room if I was not supposed to be there.”
“And if I asked you to delete the photos?
”
Without a word, she popped open the bottom of her camera and withdrew the memory stick. “Here.” She held it out for him, her gaze never wavering as she looked into his black eyes.
“You don’t —”
“Take it!” she insisted. “I am not a liar.”
“I believe you.” He settled back and pushed her hand away, indicating she could keep the photos. “I believe in the words of my elders.”
“Good. I am a trustworthy individual. All I really own is my pride and my integrity. I will not compromise either.”
“So you believe the words of the elders?”
“Until I don’t have a reason to believe. And after what I just saw and what you explained to me, I am discovering that I am having a Fox Mulder moment.”
“X-Files?”
“Yeah, an ‘I want to believe’ moment. And seeing that proof is staring me right in the face —”
“Good. Then it is settled.”
“What is settled?” She carefully placed the memory stick back in the camera with more care than she used to jerk it out.
“You are now my mate.”
It was a good thing she was sitting. Because if she had been on her feet she would have busted her ass when he dropped that bombshell.
Chapter Four
“Mate?”
“That’s what I was there for.”
“Mate?”
“I was away from my home when the season came upon me. The Standing Rock Tribe here is very closely related to my tribe through several family members and was delighted to host my search. They have a Gucge, a skunk, as well, though he is not quite ready to mate. But I took him under my wing to show him how a proper Gucge is supposed to behave. But I think my heat triggered his, and he became aggressive enough to challenge me.”
“Mate!”
“Yes, he wanted one, so the battle you observed was set up. It was hoped that I would choose a maiden from his tribe, thereby strengthening our ties and adding fresh blood to my tribe, but I chose you.”
“Mate!” She shrilled the word this time, and it pulled him out of his soliloquy.
“Well, yes.”
“I didn’t sign on for a mate, man!”
How Not to Date a Skunk Page 2