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A mountainous biker, face and body scarred by
countless battles with the dark side, straddled his Uohali-Gold Sun.
The warm, gentle air caressed his face, teased the silken gold of his
waist-length hair and laughed with him. He tilted back his head to smile at
Night-Sun, the moon. Hank enjoyed this late winter's kiss of spring. In loving
awe he stretched arms thicker than Benny's legs to the Eagle Woman, then
stared through the glass doors at Benny.
Benny's skin crawled. He glanced up and saw some
ugly giant staring at him. Thinking he was about to be propositioned,
something that happened a lot in D.C., Benny snarled a 'Get Bent' at the ugly
jerk. Dude had a face only a Mack Truck could love.
“Or God,” Two Swords finished, a twinkle
in his eyes. He snarled back, but not threatening, though he was tempted to
pound some sense into the touchy little jerk's head. The Boss Lady wouldn't
like it if he blew his cover. He shook the shaggy mane of hair when the brat
snapped out of the chair.
Trying not to laugh at the tearing sound Benny's
skin made when he parted company with that vinyl chair and Benny's wince, Hank
smothered a grin. No sense o' humor in kids. Too proud. Like he was proud of
Benny. Hank grimaced and looked away. A good kid. Rowdy little prick, yeah,
but who wants to Guard a punk?
“Shut it,” he said in a quiet murmur to
‘Heart. “You make me sick sometimes, always yackin' about you wanna be a
sword. What's wrong with being a ride for me? We do it for the kid, 'Heart. He
loves his ride, baby, so we gotta love to ride.”
Bathed in the golden light of Night-Sun, Hank
smiled. He stretched brawny, scarred arms upwards, reaching in adoration and
worship towards the love that emanated from the Aga:Father and the
Eagle-Woman and their first-born child, the Sun-Wolf.
‘Dohi:yi, Tsi:sa,' They whispered. Peace,
Beloved.
From beyond the Aga:Veil of the Day-Sun, Hank
could hear them calling. Calling to Benny, calling to him.
Calling them north to battle.
Calling them home.
Ni:io and amen.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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