Thunder barrelled up the bay, hovering, looking for the old hunting and offering grounds. The building that lay upon that strange black ground once housed a place of offering from the Croatoans, and now it was no more. He searched among other offering places, moving buildings with his will, and finding no offerings there.
He searched for his consort, Soniac, digging into the earth sometimes, removing this strange black stuff that covered her. Humans were everywhere, but very few had the blood of the Croatoan. None were Black Fox. None were believers. He sent the wind to take up their creations like kindling and toss them about as he searched and searched.
It was decided among the creatures of the air that they should approach Thunder to stop him from destroying the humans and their homes.
Falcon, bravest of birds, approached the winds but was buffetted back away. Eagle, who rode the winds, tried to see Thunder but he was caught up in the winds and tossed about. Duck could not wade through it, and neither could Gull.
Finally, the red-winged blackbird tried to go through the winds. He was light, and he was of a solid color – except for his epaulets, which showed bright in the wind. Thunder saw him and calmed the winds for him to approach.
“Great Thunder,” the blackbird cried, “You are destroying our homes.”
Thunder looked upon the small bird. “Jachakalee,” he called the bird by his Croatoan name, “I search for my love and he who offers sacrifice, the last believer.”
“He is not here, Great Thunder. We of the air, who have watched this world for you, will find him for you. Please come to the waters, so we may still have our homes.”
“What is this black grease-stone across my love’s body? And these buldings of stone and metal lie atop places chosen by Her, covering their purpose to recieve offerings to Her and my brethren?”
“The world has changed, Great Thunder. I will stay with you, to tell you of this world. I am no storyteller such as Owl, nor am I majestic as Falcon, but I have seen the changes wrought over this land and its peoples.”
“Then let it be so,” said Thunder, and moved east, out of the Chesapeake Bay area, and the storm moved with him.
So Jachakalee sang among his bretheren in the water, the gulls, who carried his message of the demands of Thunder. Where is this Black Fox, the last believer? In the meantime, Jachakalee asked Great Thunder where he had been.
“I had no offerings for many years. I slept, leaving the world in others’ hands.”
“Can you not see all, Great Thunder?”
“The affairs of men do not greatly concern me.”
“Their offerings give you strength.”
“That is all I require them for.”
Jachakalee said no more, as they hovered above the waves, and Thunder’s wind kept him aloft. He knew better than angering the gods – especially when he was holding him above water, and Jachakalee couldn’t swim.
They waited in silence for most of the passing of the day, until Jachakalee thought he could hear the crying of a gull. Thunder parted the winds for him to approach.
Gull said, exhausted, “We have…”
Thunder gave him more air, to awaken, revive, and support him. Gull said again, “We know somewhere the Black Fox may be.”
“Bring me there,” he ordered.
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“And then he asks for the waitress with the biggest knockers.”
The bane laughed, not because it was funny, but because this spider was twice his size and had four extra arms. It was just safer that way.
The Arachnos spider sighed and smoked his joint. “Kinda like being in Sharkhead. Nobody bothers you.”
“Better than Agincourt.”
“Feel bad for those guys. This is the cushiest job…what’s out there?”
The bane looked out in the water where a sudden squall seemed to be heading their way at a breakneck speed. “Shit, man, that don’t look good–”
The line of dark, menancing clouds kept heading their way as the spider announced to any and all that a storm was rolling in, and coming in fast. “We’d better get down below,” said the spider, and the bane followed meekly. They went into the fort proper, going down a few steps. They happened to stop and talk with another spider.
“What the HELL do you guys think you’re doing?” demanded a Fortunata. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the wall?”
“There was a storm coming in–”
“There’s no damn storm, and there’s someone on the wall, the cameras picked it up. Go find out what it is.”
The spider sighed and the bane followed the spider back up the few ramps to the wall again. They got to the top and the spider suddenly stopped short. “Hey! What’re you doing up here?”
The bane drew his weapon and looked around the spider. He could see a man in what looked like army-surplus fatigues and a t-shirt with a bright roaring tiger on it. He turned slowly to look at them. A red-winged blackbird sat on the man’s left shoulder.
“It seems,” the man said in a deep baritone, “that I am lost.” The man started to approach.
The bane aimed his weapon and yelled, “Don’t come any further!”
The man stopped. The bird bounced a little on the man’s shoulder and made clicking noises. The man very slowly raised his hands, palms outward, and level with his shoulders in a small “surrender” gesture. “You are not who I am looking for.”
“Well you’re what we’re looking for, asshole,” said the spider heading over. The bird flew up when the spider got within arm’s length, and the spider reached to grab the man’s wrist and yank his arm back –
But he grabbed a hold of nothing. The bird, out of reach, squawked loudly, as the man looked up at the spider, more with a curious look than a look of fear. The man brought his arms down and said, “You insult me.”
Then the spider was suddenly flying backwards through the air, off the parapet, to the rocks below. He flew so fast that the bane heard a crack of thunder and was thrown back himself into the tower doorway from some sort of residual concussion. The man turned to the bane. “You threaten me.”
The bird kept squawking and the bane was shoved against the far wall. He couldn’t breathe; felt his chest being crushed. He heard the thunder of his blood in his ears, and knew he was going to pass out –
Then he was released, and he fell about six feet to the ramp landing below, under the entrance of the tower door. His weapon fell and discharged harmlessly into the corridor, but made a lot of noise. He gasped, his lungs filling instantly with air.
The man in fatigues was in the doorway, the bird back on his shoulder. The man merely looked contemptuously down at him, as if looking at an ant, then turned away, going back onto the parapet.
Words: 1180
Continuation, and explanation, of Thunder and what he’s looking for.