I was born in the middle of a storm, not unlike the one that I’m in now. My grandfather was there, singing, and they said I sang the words too, though how that could be I don’t know, unless the singing was the wails of a child’s cry at being ripped from the womb.
Grandfather could speak with the thunderbirds and calm the storms. He could also calm any argument with his status and wisdom. They called me “Thundercloud” because of my birth and temper.
When I was young, and even just a few short years ago, my temper often got the best of me. I was in fights constantly, and with the addition of alcohol or drugs, I got even worse. I left the reservation just over five years ago, to make my way in the world.
I learned that the body I had gained from work and training got me into places. I was often a hanger-on at a party, or considered exotic with my dark looks and mysterious demeanor. Sometimes, like tonight, though, things didn’t go my way.
He’s handsome, I’ll give him that. His temper is even worse than mine. He was drinking way too much. I told him he should stop, and that’s when he took me outside and the beating started. I’m not his wife, I was told. I’m not a nag. I fought back, but he had a good head start on me, slamming my head into the wall and dazing me.
Then the punches and kicks started, and he left me here, in the rain, among the trash in the alley, bleeding.
I hear the thunderbirds.
I sing their song. As I sing, I feel the wounds, myself heal. I grow larger, stronger, filled with the power of the thunderbirds. Beat me, will you?
I go back into the bar. Lights flicker and die at my approach, and I feel their heat enter me, to grow larger. I wander through the bar, and lights explode. I do not realize I’m glowing and crackling with the thunder.
He is there, at the bar, another man. Another man he will beat senseless – but not if I can help it. He’s already staring at me. I approach. He starts to run. I reach for him, and an arc of lightning flies through the air, crackling and burning anything in its way – and he freezes, shocked. I move closer. He finally stops jerking and collapses in a heap.
“Never again,” I say to him, walking over him and out. I raise my hands to the sky, and the thunderbirds welcome me into their arms.