Date: Sun, 05 Sep 1999 09:21:30 +0900
From: andrejkoymasky@geocities.com
Subject: Goldfinch-04

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GOLDFINCH
by Andrej Koymasky Copyright 1999
written the 3rd of April, 1986
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by Tom (chap. 1 to 4)
by Gilles (chap. 5 to 17)

-----------------------------

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"GOLDFINCH" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of
sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so
on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story.
But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think
you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.

-----------------------------

CHAPTER FOUR

Kutkhay started working for the shaman. Contrary to his assumption, his
duties did not include sexual favors, the man never once even hinting at
any kind of physical approach. Instead he had him cleaning his house or
organizing and maintaining some tools and implements and the like, and
in return, as agreed, taught him the new words in the foreigner's
language.

The shaman's apprentice was more or less the same age as Kutkhay's
eldest brother, a rather strange fellow. Aloof and somewhat dour, he
seemed always to be in a bad mood, almost surly; indeed his nature was
thoroughly in contrast to that of his mentor's.

One day, after his lesson, Kutkhay was halfway back to the village when
he was caught in a  cloudburst. He stopped, allowing himself to enjoy
the sweet sensations produced upon his skin as the large, pounding
raindrops assailed him. These storms, while violent, were short and
always came in with a pleasant, mild temperature, and he loved them. On
the other hand he loathed the Great Rains all too prevalent in another
season, for these were insistent, tiresome in their long duration, and
cold.

The boy turned his face to the sky and closed his eyes. Then he opened
his mouth to let the raindrops glide along his tongue even as they
pelted his eyelids. It was so wonderful! An idea suddenly took form in
his mind. He left the path and headed away from home and soon came upon
a favorite small meadow, away from anyone's casual view. He undid his
loincloth. Now he  felt totally free and it was exhilarating. He loved
being like this, so in touch with nature, feeling a part of it, as one
with it. He started to sing out at the top of his voice, using the new
words he had learned, not even trying to give sense or order to how they
went together.

A clap of thunder shook the air and lightening crackled and flashed
behind the dark, billowing  clouds all around him, and Kutkhay laughed
aloud, shouting, "Yes, Spirit of the Air, yes!  Sing out loud, too! Yes,
sing! Isn't life wonderful? Everything is beautiful! Sing your song!" He
stroked his smooth, wet skin with his hands, his body cool and shiny
with the water that streamed along it and from the ends of his soaking
hair. He picked up his dripping loincloth, whirled it in the air in
front of him or over his head, and began running along the edges of the
clearing, skipping and jumping in his joy.

The storm soon ended, as suddenly as it had started. A ray of sunlight
broke through the clouds, and as if it were a wedge, it soon opened the
sky to a deep blue. The sun's rays were not long in warming everything
and in restoring all of nature to its luxuriant colors and perfumes.
Reluctantly, Kutkhay donned his loincloth and returned to the village.
The heat of the sun caressed his skin and dried it quickly, leaving only
his garment and his hair with any indication of the soaking to which he
had submitted.

Everyone back at the village was outside taking advantage of the short
period of sunshine to do something constructive. He spotted Mokoa going
into someone else's house. A moment later he came back out and set off
toward the forest. From the same house a boy their age, Wikhat, also
emerged, taking off a bit more hurriedly in the opposite direction. He
had been paired with Mokoa at the initiation rite. Kutkhay was familiar
with the subterfuge he suspected he was now witnessing, having used it
himself often enough in league with his friend and lover. He figured the
two had likewise arranged a tryst. So, was Wikhat one of the two others
Mokoa had spoken of, as it now seemed? He decided he was going to find
out right now. Kutkhay had become quite adept as a hunter, his
confidence boosted by his newly acquired adult status, and with the
added incentive of the shaman's lessons, so he was able to follow a prey
skillfully without its awareness. Now he could put his skill to the test
with his first human "prey."  And so he was hardly surprised in his
success in shadowing the other boy, neither being spotted by, nor ever
loosing sight of, the unsuspecting "prey." From time to time Wikhat did
turn and look around to affirm his secrecy, but he never did suspect
that two attentive eyes were with him every step of the way.

The hike was long, but finally Wikhat approached a pierced rock in a
small clearing where he sat on a small mound of earth, apparently to
wait. Kutkhay assumed they would use the privacy of the cave for their
rendezvous, and seeing that the boy relaxed in anticipation of his
friend's arrival, he was able to slip furtively inside behind his back.
The wait was brief. He heard Mokoa's voice indistinctly, and Wikhat's
response, but from confines of the cave he couldn't really hear what
they said. He only hoped he had guessed correctly that the two actually
would come inside to have sex. Aha! He heard the voices come nearer and
withdrew to a low ledge he discovered that was obscured in the darkness
and perfect for him to remain hidden. He watched them enter and they
stopped not far from the entrance.

"Let's stop here. I don't want to be in the dark," Wikhat said. "And if
somebody comes we'll be able to see him in time."

Mokoa nodded.

Kutkhay's heart was in his throat and he could feel a pounding in his
temples, but he never took his eyes from them for a single moment. He
watched while the thing he had guessed started coming true. They both
undressed and began their sexual romp. The blood rose to his face and he
felt the blaze of jealousy burn inside him. Mokoa was letting himself be
taken from behind by Wikhat just as he always did with Kutkhay, but he
noticed with a certain satisfaction when they were done that they hadn't
included those special things that the strangers, and Mokoa and he,
would do. Wikhat wanted to penetrate him a second time and Mokoa was
eager to oblige, and this time they moaned and squealed in their
wantonness like little beasts in heat. Wikhat's body was undoubtedly
fine looking and strong, he decided, but not really beautiful.

As their fire ebbed and they disengaged, the boy said, "I'd like to get
together with you like this more often."

"No, it's fine the way it is now," Mokoa replied.

"But I really want to do this a lot more often!" the boy stubbornly
repeated more adamantly.

Mokoa responded with a hard tone. "You forget my rank! We do as I want.
Now don't be insistent or we will stop altogether."

"Come on, you know you like doing it with me. If we stopped meeting
anymore, what would you do?" Wikhat didn't try to disguise his
arrogance.

"I'd rather stop doing it!" Mokoa answered with a finality in his tone
that was unmistakable.

Kutkhay was glad to see that Mokoa didn't mention having two more
lovers. The other boy looked at Mokoa for a moment, his expression still
defiant, but Mokoa was calm, adding, "Go now. I'll be back in a little
while."

Wikhat lowered his eyes, retrieving his loincloth and grumbling, "You
are so arrogant," and stalked out of the cave. Mokoa, still naked,
watched him disappear into the forest. He stood stock still at the
cave's entrance. Meanwhile, Kutkhay watched this awkward conclusion with
growing satisfaction. He freed himself from his loincloth and silently
came up behind his friend and enfolded his shoulders in an embrace.

Mokoa was startled, yelling and struggling until he wriggled free, and
turned in a stance ready to fight. But in a second he recognized his
friend and exhaled sharply, an expression of surprise crossing his face.
He burst into a laugh. "You were here the whole time? You saw
everything?"

The boy nodded, his eyes betraying no emotion.

"So I guess now you know who one of them is. But how did you find us
out? Were you here in this cave just by chance?"

Kutkhay shook his head and spoke for the first time, explaining briefly
the circumstances that brought him to this moment. Meanwhile Mokoa was
taking notice of his friend's naked state, and didn't overlook the state
of his aroused member, either.

"You want to do it now, don't you?"

"Yes..."

"Me, too!" The excitement rose in his voice. "It's always better with
you. Come here."

But Kutkhay hesitated. "Then why do you do it with him, too?"

"Because he is strong. Because having just one partner for sex isn't
enough for me. Because it's fun having variety." He watched his friend
as he spoke and noted the sadness of his expression. "Don't tell me
you're jealous? We aren't married, you and I, not to each other, anyway.
We are free to do whatever we want... and with whomever we want."

Kutkhay didn't answer and was a little confused at the words, thinking
that maybe his friend was right. Mokoa embraced him and began kissing
him tenderly on the mouth. Kutkhay surrendered himself to the moment.
But then he backed off a little, asking, "How come you didn't kiss him,
or do the other things?"

"It isn't the same with him. It wouldn't feel right. With you it's
different; only with you."

"And not with the other guy either?"

"With him it's something different altogether."

"Mokoa, who is it?"

Mokoa chuckled. "You're so resourceful, why don't you find that out for
yourself?" He didn't expect or wait for an answer and went into another
embrace and gave him another long kiss.

"Wait, I don't feel like doing this here inside. Let's get out into the
open air, under the sun," Kutkhay murmured.

"I think it's going to rain again..." Mokoa answered, glancing outside
with a perfunctory scan of the sky.

"Even better. We can do it in the rain!" Kutkhay replied, taking him by
the hand and pulling him along. He felt his spirit beginning to lighten
with remarkable momentum.

They were no sooner outside, just beginning to touch each other
everywhere at once, when the skies opened up once more. Heedless of
everything but each other, they continued their affectionate play, and
still standing, and under the storm's fury, their passion ignited. To
the accompaniment of the rumbling clouds, the sounds of the lashing
winds and the white flashes of scattered thunderbolts, they soon joined,
back to front, the small, taut rump and the tireless, driving phallus.
Kutkhay lowered his head to Mokoa's shoulder, his lips and cheek
caressing his lover's tender ear and neck, and his arms enfolded the
hot, wet body while his hands grasped at and fondled Mokoa's swollen
genitals. They continued like this for a long time, their moans and
grunts lost in the deafening reverberations of the tempest blowing in
from the sea, until in an endless moment, as the steam rose from their
dripping, slippery, heaving bodies, their breathless ecstasy was
fulfilled.

The storm continued on their trek back to the village, although its
initial energy, like their own, was spent.

"Mokoa?"

"Yes, brother?"

"How do you do it, sharing yourself with four different people? I find
it hard enough to share myself with two. I wish it was only you and
me..."

"Oh, no! I would like to have even more sexual playmates. I could
willingly give it up with my woman, but that isn't possible. My brother
said to me: do your duty with your woman, and then if you like, do as
you please. And that's what I'm doing."

"Your brother knows?"

"Of course."

"And... he doesn't say anything more about it?"

"No, but he has a male lover, too, Jokkah, our slave. And Kwashi has sex
with Gohtey..."

"How would you know that?"

"I know."

"And do you think there are other male couples in our village?"

"I know the shaman does it with his assistant. And it seems as though
even the chief does it with Preskh, but I'm not sure."

"Who is your other lover?" Kutkhay abruptly asked again.

"Somebody I promised never tell you."

"Then he knows about me?!"

"No, he doesn't know about us, but he asked me not to tell anybody, and
especially not you."

"He said me by name?"

"Yes."

"So who is he?"

"I told you, I promised him I'd never say his name."

"OK, then don't tell me his name, but help me, give me some kind of
hint," Kutkhay said with a teasing laugh.

"You have to swear that you won't ever let him know I said anything. You
swear?"

"Of course. I swear!" Kutkhay's excitement was unbearable.

"All right, it's somebody that got married a little while back."

"Tarhak!"

"No, after him."

"After? But after him... Tumchey? My brother?" he asked, astonished,
halting abruptly to study his friend, trying to determine if he was
teasing him.

"I can't tell names."

"You let him fuck you?"

"No, actually I fuck him."

The virile Tumchey? the strong, masculine Tumchey allowing himself to be
penetrated by the delicate Mokoa? He was in utter shock. "No, I can't
believe that! Besides, you aren't the same status or of the same class.
He is the older. How could it be?"

"It can be. And he loves it. And he is actually the one who taught me.
My first male," Mokoa said persuasively.

"But Tumchey? He is so masculine. And I've seen how he makes love to his
woman. It is so hard to believe, especially that he lets you enter him"

"Listen, the next time I go to meet with him, I'll tell you where, and
you can see with your own eyes," his friend responded with a serious,
not to mention a roguish look.

"I guess I believe you. But I'm so shocked!"

>From that day on, Kutkhay began watching his next older brother with
much greater attention, all the while trying to figure out whether Mokoa
had told him a tall story after all. It was all so confusing. Nothing
could make him believe Tumchey really even had such inclinations. But
then, it didn't really seem like Mokoa was kidding, either. So he
started spying on him at night sometimes while he mated with his wife.
Their sleeping mat was pretty close to his own, so when they made love,
he could discern their bodies in motion. Tumchey really was virility
personified, not only more so than their eldest brother, but even more
than their father. That was a fact certainly plain to see, not only in
the ardor with which he took his wife almost every night, but also in
the his stamina and endurance.

When Tumchey's wife was in her seventh month, she went to her mother's
house to await and prepare for the birth, as tradition warranted, while
Tumchey remained alone with his own family. One night Kutkhay awoke. He
became aware of a faint, rhythmic noise, barely perceptible, not enough
to be the cause of his waking up. From its direction he realized what it
was almost immediately: Tumchey masturbating. The idea of this got him
hard immediately, and after only a brief hesitation, hardly giving it
any thought at all, he rolled toward him until he was close enough to
touch him.

He moved closer, leaning into him, his body against his brother's,
letting his brother feel his own erection rubbing against him, and he
brought his hand into contact with Tumchey's hard member. He sensed
Tumchey's body stiffen, and then, in the darkness and with no words
spoken, it became apparent he was being directed, ordered, to go away.
But Kutkhay persisted, and when he felt his brother turn his back to him
as if the matter were settled, he slid along his back and pushed his
hot, hard cock against the buttocks presented to him. He sensed
Tumchey's resistance weakening and before long he knew the resolve had
dissipated. Kutkhay pushed with his pelvis until his brother's tight
little knot of muscle opened to him. Tumchey let out a whispered sigh
that lasted until his brother could advance no farther. Kutkhay became
almost crazed with the combination of excitement and pleasure as he sunk
into his brother and slowly glided along the velvety, grasping channel,
savoring the hard male body of his handsome brother, and with no
rational thought remaining in his head. Thrusting in and out and
increasing the tempo, he caressed Tumchey's muscled chest, his taut
belly and his enormous staff and full, squirming sack, and felt his
responses in the way he quivered like leaves in a spring breeze.

When both had calmed from their climaxes, Kutkhay remained inside his
brother for a long while, continuing to caress his body, until he felt
the last tensions leave his body. They separated and Kutkhay went back
to his own mat and quickly fell fast asleep, drained and contented.
Their silent coupling continued almost every night for the rest of his
brother's wife's absence. Meanwhile, during the daytime, they both acted
as if nothing was going on, never once bringing up the subject.

But there was one day that their oldest brother beckoned them aside
while all three were hunting with a group of others. "If you want to
play together, this is a private matter between the two of you. But it
would be wise if you didn't do it at home. It is almost inevitable that
others will find out. Go somewhere else. That would be best. Especially
for you, Tumchey, since you are soon going to have a child." He turned
away and rejoined the hunting party.

Both the brothers were greatly embarrassed. Kutkhay quickly proposed
meeting at a place he was certain would be private, but the idea was
turned down just as quickly. "In a short while my wife will be back. It
is better if we stop altogether, and now." Kutkhay was deflated, but
since he knew he still had Mokoa he decided there was no need to insist.
Only days later Tumchey's wife was back with their child.

It was mid-autumn when the village reinstalled itself at the winter
site, just before the season of the great rains. Kutkhay's woman was
pregnant now, and the requisite marriage of the couple was celebrated.
The house by now was becoming too crowded for the growing population of
the family and a new house was erected for the youngest couples. These
were Tumchey and Kutkhay, together with two of their cousins and their
wives and children.

With the coming of his child, Tumchey had severed his secret
relationship with Mokoa, and after taking a wife of his own at about the
same time, so did Wikhat. So Kutkhay, to his delight, met with his lover
with much more frequency, and there was no denying how he savored this
new exclusivity. Apart from their wives, Mokoa was finally his alone,
and he didn't even feel any jealousy towards his friend's wife.

In the height of winter, when the snow on the ground was at its deepest,
they could no longer meet in the open air for their sexual romps, and
the opportunities for any indoor activity were extremely rare. But with
a resourcefulness born of desire, the two youths had discovered a cave
reasonably nearby where the temperature was bearable, and to which they
brought two old mats and a lantern; and so, with a small fire for added
warmth, they were able to continue to meet in relative comfort while
winter passed.

When spring arrived and the village moved again to the summer site,
another new home went up  for the four young families. In the night,
when Kutkhay listened to the sounds of his brother or one of his cousins
copulating with their respective women, there was only his wife to
placate his desires. He noticed this only diminished his internal fires
but never successfully extinguished them. The boy had come to realize
that he was attracted more and more by the male body. In his mind there
was an indefinable fineness, a magnificence, to the male form, one of
his house-sharing cousins particularly exemplifying this quality, while
to the contrary, the female shape seemed to himÖ uninspiring. He
admitted as much to Mokoa, whose response, in his usual breezy way, was
that it was the same for him. This reassured him a little, because all
the other men of the village, except for the ones his friend had
revealed to him, seemed to be attracted only to women. Kutkhay, of
course, had an aversion to feeling different from the others, but Mokoa
said that it wasn't a question of being different, merely that each one
has his preferences, "the same as for food," he reasoned.

About this same time Kutkhay was becoming aware of changes occurring in
his own body, obviously growing and filling out. This satisfied and
gratified him immeasurably. It wasn't a narcissistic attitude. He just
was glad to see his physique was maturing, attaining admirable
proportions and elegance that reflected his strength and grace, yet
retaining his lean framework. He looked just like the men whose physical
appearance he most admired. And it was particularly refreshing that
Mokoa mentioned quite often how handsome he was becoming.

They were at the summer village for just a short time when something
happened that would leave  a deep mark in his people's society and in
Kutkhay's life. Two men of the tribe had trespassed into the territory
of the neighboring tribe, a mountainside where they had seen numerous
moose, many more in a relatively small area than anything they had ever
seen in their own dominion. They subsequently suggested to the elders to
carry out one broad hunting foray into that area. This prompted a long
discussion, wherein the wisest among them objected on the basis that to
venture into the territory of another tribe was equivalent to a
declaration of war. But in a society  predominantly ocean based in its
consumption, the prospect of meat in bulk, the excellent large hides and
a bounty in the skeletal remains with which to work into tools and
decoration, were enough to convince the majority that the risk was worth
it. Besides, they intended to make it a quick raid, and not too deep, so
there wasn't much chance of ever even being seen. The decision created a
great agitation throughout the village. There were the refinement of
plans and the preparations, the rites to help assure a good hunt and,
for at least some, the prospect of a glorious war.

Mokoa was one of the advocates of the undertaking. Kutkhay, while not
exactly against it, wasn't really so sure it was a good idea either.
Nevertheless the raid had been decided. Scouts were sent out to study
the terrain and the precise location of the other village, to locate the
grazing areas of the elk, and find the most advantageous places for the
approach and the retreat. When they returned it was with reports that
only served to increase the number of supporters of the enterprise.
Finally, when the village felt there was nothing more to prepare, the
men departed in groups of twos or threes, following different trails to
a predetermined location known to them all.

Mokoa made sure to get himself paired alone with Kutkhay. They left at
first light, armed and equipped with plenty of rope, and hastened to the
wooded slopes leading to the hinterland. Along the way no one spoke. As
long as they were in their own territory, everyone knew he could move
quickly and safely, and used that to maximum advantage. A few words were
exchanged only whenever they stopped for a brief rest. It was during one
of these when Mokoa proposed a bit of sex-play but Kutkhay refused.

"You know it isn't that I don't want to, my brother, but it's better if
we conserve our energies. When we get back we will find a way to do it
right away." He didn't mention that the prospect of his first venture
into foreign territory had produced a restless anxiety and a mix of
emotion that built steadily until he was actually on the way, and it was
taking a little time for him to get in control of himself.

Mokoa felt dejected at first, but because of his fundamentally sunny
good nature it didn't last very long, and he temporarily accepted his
friend's resolve. But when they stopped at night to rest, Mokoa started
teasing his body and persisted until he succeeded in arousing him.
Kutkhay tried to make him stop, but his lover was determined to get what
he wanted. Kutkhay was feeling more comfortable with himself by now, and
his friend's affectionate goading finally had the desired effect in
stirring his passion. His reluctance slowly melted away. They struggled
for a while playfully but Kutkhay didn't really try very hard to resist,
and he finally surrendered completely when his friend managed to
unfasten his loincloth and brought his mouth down to his groin. They
made love with complete abandon, forgetting for the moment their
surroundings, only conscious  of each other and of the pleasure they
were able to give and receive.

When they at last had quenched their mutual desire and found themselves
in the serenity of afterglow Mokoa asked, "Kutkhay, will you promise -
no, swear -- to be my lover forever?"

"Of course, you know you don't even have to ask. With you I feel
complete. You know that. It is you who isn't content with having only
me..."

"But you know that right now I do have only you."

"Sure, but that's only because the others decided they had had enough."

"Will you ever tell me you've had enough of me?"

"No, never."

"Then I am swearing to you that from now on, I'll never again go with
anyone else."

Kutkhay was deeply moved, and could only whisper into his ear, "Thank
you."

Mokoa took him in his embrace, and as he lightly caressed his lover's
body they fell to sleep. They slept in each other's warm embrace,
nestled into an ever greater sense of wholeness.

They resumed their trek while it was still dark. By dawn they reached
the rendezvous. When everyone was accounted for, the chief gave final
instructions. Now they must locate a feeding ground heavily populated by
the elk, where the most difficult part of the enterprise would take
place. Without being spotted by the enemy, they must kill as many of the
beasts as possible, with as much stealth as possible, and return with
the carcasses to the safety of their own territory as quickly as
possible. Some pairs of men were chosen to scatter and keep watch,
responsible for sounding an alarm at the first sign of danger, while the
main body proceeded with their mission. The guards were chosen from the
youngest of the party, so it was with a good deal of disappointment that
Kutkhay and Mokoa found themselves among those selected. They were
assigned a specific area and quickly taught a set of signals.

The two boys had to be absolutely silent and move about with extreme
caution. Their mission was to survey the terrain while remaining
conscious at all times of an escape route. Because of the contours of
the terrain, they found themselves frequently in the treetops in order
to be able to scan the distances. Mokoa was less cautious than his
friend and Kutkhay often was tempted to reprimand him, but he kept in
mind the admonishment for strict silence. They moved forward until
Mokoa, from one of their many treetop vantage points, signaled him to
climb up. Kutkhay climbed quickly with his usual agility and reached his
friend to look in the direction to which he excitedly pointed. They
could easily see the village of their enemy, spreading along the valley
below them.

It was the first time Kutkhay had ever seen a village other than his
own. And it was really peculiar, composed of small cone shaped tents,
and from the tips of some a thin column of smoke rose. There was a good
deal of activity, seemingly oriented toward and influenced by their
location on the valley floor, and the comings and goings were mostly at
the far side of the village from the aerie of the two boys. The men wore
aprons not unlike those of the women of their own tribe, but smaller,
shorter, and these were very colorful in their decoration. They also
wore their hair very long and tied at the back. The women wore clothes
that hid the upper parts of their bodies, and they tied their hair at
both  sides of the head. From this distance it wasn't possible to
distinguish specific facial  features but the skin was of a color
slightly ruddier than his people,  actually quite similar if compared to
the strangers who visited from  the sea.

Mokoa whispered in his ear, "From here we can see the moment they head
this way. We're safe here."

"But we have to get away from here. The climbing is difficult. We'd
probably be safer a little farther back."

"No, no, it would be just as difficult for them to climb up to this
ridge. This place is safe."

Kutkhay nodded, although not quite convinced, and they remained here in
silence just watching. Now they had to stay where they were until they
heard the callback signal from their companions. The wait turned out to
be a long and boring one, making it all the more important to
concentrate on vigilance. They both knew how easily boredom could lead
to inattention, and the result of that could prove not only dangerous
but fatal.

The hours passed slowly and when there arose from the village the
splendid aroma of roasting meat, it reminded the two youths that it was
in fact more than a day since they last ate. Mokoa held his nose with
two fingers and grimaced in a way that expressed how he suffered from
the provocative smells. Kutkhay could barely stifle his laughter. He
loved his Mokoa's special brand of cheerfulness and he valued what he
had with him. He felt lucky to have found a friend like him. But his
primary responsibility at the moment was vital and he didn't have the
luxury of allowing himself to be distracted by gazing at his friend.
This occurred to him at the same time he felt his desire awakening. They
continued directing their attention toward the village. As long as
nobody ascended the mountain there was no immediate danger, at least in
this vicinity. And while it seemed the time was never going to pass,
they had no lack of patience.

Suddenly Kutkhay heard a noise behind them. He put a hand on Mokoa's
arm, signaling him to not make a sound and pointing in the direction of
the noise. Both tensed, staying motionless as they listened and peered
through the forest. A few moments later, they spotted a man heading
downhill towards the village carrying two dead hares on his shoulder. It
was obvious he was hunting by himself, and the way he walked reflected a
certain ease of mind, no doubt due to the safe proximity of his village.
Kutkhay hoped he wasn't going to raise his eyes, for he would surely see
them and then just as surely would give an alarm. From here it would not
take much of a shout to be heard at the village. Kutkhay put an arrow to
his bow and took aim. Mokoa promptly followed suit. Despite the rush of
adrenaline they both could feel pumping through them, they held still,
only moving that little bit that allowed them to keep the man in their
sights. The man was coming around to their position from farther uphill,
quietly following a trail leading to the village of teepees. Suddenly a
jay broke the stillness with its disconcerting call and flew from a
branch of their tree, and the man picked up his head unconsciously
toward the small commotion. Two arrows sailed toward him in tandem, and
the hunter reflexively tried to dodge from their trajectory.
Simultaneously, a startled yelp erupted from his lungs, abruptly cut
short as the slender missiles found their mark. One arrow pierced an
arm, the other drove deep into his chest. His body dropped heavily to
the forest floor.

The youths looked to the village and instantaneously confirmed that the
shout had been heard.  They yelled out with their own danger signal as
they scurried down the tree, taking flight up the steep slope in a
nimble retreat. As they ran past the fallen enemy there was no
indication he was still alive, but he half rose behind them, his bow in
hand, and suddenly an arrow plunged deep into Mokoa's back. The boy
collapsed with a strangled groan. Kutkhay turned instantly and a second
arrow flew from his bow, and the man dropped where he stood, half the
arrow protruding from the center of his chest. Lifting him bodily, he
tried to bring his friend to his feet.

Mokoa spoke with an odd, breathy voice Kutkhay could hardly recognize.
"Go onÖ warn the  others."

"You need help..." His friend was slipping from his grasp and he fumbled
to hold him precariously on his bent knee.

"No. I order you. RememberÖ my rank is... Go, Mokoa!Ö You mustÖ" and he
collapsed further, tumbling the rest of the way to the ground.

Kutkhay heard the excited shouts of the men rushing up the mountainside
from their village, and suddenly his legs were carrying him further up
toward the crest. The going was every bit as steep as the terrain behind
him, but the urgency of warning his people and his fear combined to shut
off any feelings the strain in his leg muscles might have created by his
speed and the climb. Every few steps he shouted out the danger signal
again, until, as he dropped behind the peak he was able to hear his
comrades somewhere responding. He continued running at top speed, maybe
faster than he ever had before, in the direction of his home territory
and his village. Even when he recognized the familiar homeland he didn't
slow down. His lungs felt as if they would burst with the effort and he
could feel his strength deserting him, but he pushed on, running for
hours and hours.

He was in safe territory, almost home, when he came upon the cave where
he had met Mokoa so many times in the past winter. He went inside and
threw himself on the old mats, exhausted. He remained sprawled there a
long time until he caught his breath and the pounding in his heart
slowed. He hadn't seen another person the whole journey back, not even
his own people. He didn't know if the others succeeded with their
mission and didn't know if they escaped.  He didn't know if Mokoa was
dead or only wounded. Did the enemy find him? Did they take him prisoner
or did they kill him?

Mokoa's crying out echoed in his mind, haunting him. The sadness that
filled his heart was heavy. Eventually he picked himself up and
continued toward the village, no longer running but still at a fast
pace. When he got there he saw that some were already back while others
were still arriving. He went to his friend's wife and the mother and
told them immediately what he knew of Mokoa's fate. They both broke down
with a plaintive cry. Kutkhay sat in front of his own house, leaning his
shoulders against the wall and closing his eyes. Their crying was
irksome and he wished he could shut it out. He had more reason to cry
than they but the tears wouldn't come.

The last of the men eventually returned. The hunt itself had gone fairly
well but another man besides Mokoa also never returned. Three of the
tribe had come upon four local hunters. There was a skirmish and the
four were killed, their prey seized; but one of their own lay dead on
that field, too. Two men's lives in exchange for eleven elk. It was
cause for subdued celebration, despite the losses. The enterprise had
lasted three days.

Kutkhay wasn't blamed or held responsible for not having assisted his
friend. Everybody knew the first duty was to give the alarm and would
have done exactly the same thing. His signals were heard and was
certainly the reason greater losses were avoided. All the same, the boy
felt he was responsible for losing his friend forever.

The meat, and the skins and bones, were apportioned throughout the
village. When Kutkhay received a shinbone he cut a small piece from it
to carve into a whistle. He hung it from his neck with his herbal
talisman. Secretly he named the whistle "Lover." Since it was assumed
his friend was now dead, it was forbidden for anyone ever to speak his
name again until a newborn at some future time had it conferred on him.
Mokoa's wife became his brother's wife, as was the custom, and life
continued almost as if nothing had happened, except for the mourning of
the two lost men's relatives. Kutkhay secretly also performed the
mourning rites, even while in his heart he continued to hope Mokoa was
taken alive and kept as a slave. But for all intents and purposes, in
his village he was indeed dead. This cleared up for him the mystery of
one of the customs, why the slaves didn't usually escape. They would no
longer be welcome among their own people once they had been mourned as
dead.

The days passed. Kutkhay was terribly lonely, and he had taken to
carrying out his conjugal duties with his wife less frequently. One day
she even asked to him how she had offended him, or whether by chance
Kutkhay had grown tired of her. He tried to reassure her and for a time
made sure to have intercourse with her more often. But still, on every
occasion he'd recall his Mokoa, and how wonderful, how intimate the act
of love with him was. He could still remember every detail of that
beautiful body he knew so well, and each time the result was a sorrow so
heavy he was nearly overwhelmed by it. He immersed himself in his work,
in the toil of it. At least this allowed him a reprieve from his
thoughts. It also contributed to the strengthening and further
development of his body. Nobody called him "Wrong-one" anymore. In fact,
these days he was  respected and admired pretty much by everybody. The
only part of his life that gave him any respite from his grief and
misery, though, were the lessons he continued to receive from the
shaman.

He was working with his father cutting planks from a tree one afternoon
when a commotion could be heard back at the village. At first Kutkhay
thought it might be a surprise attack in retaliation for his people's
incursion of their neighbor's domain. He and his father stealthily
approached, expecting to have to defend their home. Kutkhay often
wondered whether this would happen and hoped with all his heart that
this was it, not only to get his revenge, but also because by dying in
battle he would reunite with his Mokoa in the spirit's world.

But as they approached the village it was obvious something else
entirely was happening. A ship, a white man's ship, was coming towards
their bay, and everyone was already at the shore. This all too
infrequent event was always cause for wild anticipation. His father
heaved a sigh of relief that there was no danger and went back to
retrieve the tools they left under the tree. Kutkhay was already halfway
to the shore, flying at breakneck speed. His dream had come true!  Now
he could speak to these mysterious men in their own language, he'd learn
about the fascinating world from which they came.

At the seashore he plunged into the crowd, joyfully sharing his
excitement with his people. Even through the voices, he heard the sound
of the ship's anchor dropping and turned in time to see it hit the water
as a hive of activity was taking place on board. Perhaps his tribe was
greatly excited, but not more than the boy. Finally his father's people
were back, men whose blood flowed in his own veins. These were likely
his family, he thought, his brothers. Someone among them might even know
his father, might know where to find him. Why, among  these very men
might stand his true father! He'd always thought the man must be very
handsome to have entranced his mother into forgetting she had a husband,
and to surrender herself to him several times. In his observation and
experience women were always loyal to their husbands and he knew his
mother really loved hers. Yes, he must have been irresistible, his
father James...

The small boats were lowering to the surface and Kutkhay noticed right
away that these men were not dressed all alike, but in many different
colors and sorts, and that few of them carried the shining
thunder-sticks. Nor was there a chief in glittering buttons and
impressive headdress with white feathers. And in looking more carefully
he came to the slow realization that this ship was not the same one.
This one was much wider, and taller. More disconcerting, it logically
followed that there must be many more of these great boats, and maybe
each one was of a different tribe. Then how would he know which would be
of his father's tribe. But then he shook his head as if to clear it, and
breathed a little easier. He knew that every tribe he was aware of
speaks a different language, so if he could understand the words a man
spoke, it would have to be a man of James' tribe. He watched the small
boats come closer and his anticipation and anxiety quickly returned
stronger than ever.

The first boat was beached and its occupants waded knee-deep up to the
dry sand. When one of the strangers said the first words, "Peace! Peace!
We come in peace," Kutkhay almost jumped in the air. He recognized those
words!

The shaman answered, "Peace, men," and gestured with his hands.

The man asked, "Do you understand my language?"

"Yes, me understand you language."

The second boat had just landed and Kutkhay eagerly walked up to the
first man of this party and said, bursting with pride, beaming, "I you
language understand!"

The man looked back at him, his face suddenly brightening, then laughed,
saying. "Well that's a lucky thing, lad, because I can't understand
yours!" with a vigorous and friendly clapping of Kutkhay's shoulder.

"The man, James name, do you him man know?" Kutkhay blurted. He could
hardly contain himself and held his breath.

"James? We have at least six James's on board. What is the surname of
your James?"

"Sur-Ö name?" Kutkhay asked. He didn't know that word.

The man patiently explained and in just a few moments Kutkhay understood
that James was only  half of a man's name. That was kind of confusing,
but he nevertheless realized that it meant it was going to be more
difficult to find his father without knowing the other half. Anyway,
they were from his true father's tribe -- the language was the same!

-----------------------------

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 5

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In my home page I've put some of my stories. If someone wants to read
them, the URL is

http://www.geocities.com/~andrejkoymasky/

If you want to send me feed-back, please e-mail at

andrejkoymasky@geocities.com

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