It came for me in the dark
It came for me in the dark.
Beneath a canopy of crossed trees, and under the last vestiges of summer, in those moments when the night is warm but without the stinging heat of the day, I watched the last embers of my fire die to scuttled coals. Dinner was finished, and the wrappers and cans lay in a plastic bag which I had hung from a tree twenty yards away from me. The coals gave off the last glowing sparks of heat, and I tossed a handful of dirt to smother them out.
I was at the lake. The same lake I had gone to every year, since I had been a young girl of three. This year, I went alone - my brother was too busy with his job, and my parents decided to go to Georgia to visit family while I, I went to the same pilgrimage spot that I had gone for these past sixteen years. And here, among the red dirt and pine needles, in the mountains of northern California, I walked alone to the camp grounds.
A young girl of nineteen alone in the woods, it was a plot for a bad story, but I could handle myself well enough. My father had taught me to carry a knife, and I had a revolver in case of big threats like a bear. No, I wasn't worried, and as I stood, stretched, and stripped down to my undershirt and shorts, I took a last look over the lake, which glittered with a thin sliver of silver moonlight. I smiled, and closed my eyes. I was tired, and ready to sleep, but I had one more thing to do before I slept in my tent.
I walked to the lake, my bare feet making small tracks across the water-worn pebbles and sand like shore edge. I walked until my toes just brushed the water, and stretched my arms over my head, my palms towards the moon and head back, that my black hair spilled behind me. I let my thoughts drift away to silence in that place, and I bathed in the moonlight and mountain-chilled water at my toes. I stood there, my hands falling, and I pulled forth a leather chord, which hung from it beads, chosen from over the year and carefully worked until they were smooth, and beautiful. Beads, which I had carved in my spare time, as my grandfather had taught me back on the revervation. Beads, which were an offering to the lake, as my grandmother once spoke.
I held the beads up, the wood and bone clacking softly together in the light breeze which shivered across me. I held the beads out over the lake, and then curled them into my palm, squeezing them.
"Kahweah." I spoke the name, and the water rippled with the breeze. And then, my mouth dry, I threw the beads into the river - casting with a long pitch that sent them flying in an arch, to land with a small splash. "Thank you. With love and regards."
The wind died to stillness. And, feeling the stillness settle deep, even into my bones I walked from the lake, and to my tent, to sleep.
It came for me in the dark.
The symphony of my dreams was crickets and wind, which rustled trees and blew across the mountaintop cold enough to chill me even in my unconscious state. The symphony was water dripping and the hooting of owls, and the soft padding of wild things through the dark. It was only when the symphony of crickets and the hooting of owls, when the grass went still and even the wind held its breath that I pulled my head up from my pillow, gently awakened by the sheer quiet of the world. It was a thunderous, echoing, booming silence, and like a pressure on my temples, I pulled myself from my tent, and gazed into the dark.
Something moved, a shadow of ink and nothing. Something moved, and from its mouth came a rumbling growl, which sent a shudder down my spine. The shape was fuzzy at first, and as it came further, snuffling towards me. Large, its eyes were a maddened gleam which focused upon me, and its snarl came louder. I could smell the fetid stink of its approach - it was a monster of the natural world.
A bear, and from its look, a rabid one. Drool hung from its mouth, and though it moved on swaying steps, it did not stop its approach. It would, perhaps, die in a few days from its degrading brain, but it was still a carrier, and a dangerous one. I backed further as it moved faster towards me.
I moved slowly backward into my tent, slowly back to grab the pack, but even that movement brought the full weight of its gaze upon me. It approached and its great paw swung at the tent, batting it, and its great jaws opened to snap at me. Panic shot through me as I pulled the revolver from my pack, but was sent sprawling as the tent collapsed upon me. I panicked, screeching out in animal fear. The bear roared back.
I kicked away the tent, and tried to aim down the barrel at the beast no more than five feet from me. I aimed, and I fired, but adrenaline is harsh when one needs to be steady. Two rounds went wide, a third struck it in the chest, a fourth and fifth followed. I did not have time for a sixth as it charged me. I had only enough time to kick away from it, only to tumble down the incline towards the lake. The gun spilled away and discharged the last round into the woods, freely. The beast leapt for me, and I brought my hands up to protect my face, instinctively. I prayed that at least it would be quick.
And then I heard the rush of water, and a loud crack of bone striking flesh. Above me, water spilled down, over me, dripping. The water was clear, and cool against my hot, sweat soaked flesh, and my eyes slowly opened, to gaze up upon that which suspended a California black bear by one straining limb. The limb dripped, a pale striped thing of mottled white flesh that glowed under the dim light of the moon. Claws, nearly a foot long each, wrapped the neck of the struggling bruin, and along the forearm and elbow spikes shot forth, ripping into the chest of its prey.
A great skull gaped, eyes of green and red, too many eyes, eyes that entranced me for their nature was nothing I had seen before, and would never see again. I stared into those eyes, which looked to me, and to the beast in claw, and everywhere at once. Its great skull gaped, and a brilliance illuminated from its mouth, before lunging, driving the bear into the earth with bone snapping force. It covered me, its body stepping carefully around me, though its abdomen hovered bare inches from my face. Feet planted, and I could smell it so close. It smelled like water, and seaweed, and the fresh melt of spring. It, no, no, I could see quite clearly that it was Male, with its testicles dangling dangerously close to my face, it was most definitely a He which stood protective over me.
The bear screamed. And then it screamed again, as a terrible rending sounded through the forest and across the lake. The sandy lake edge grew dark with blood. The bear ripped, and it was torn into halves, before being cast yards apart. A triumphant bellow left the monstrous creature above me, and I saw its penis thicken in excitement, the excitement of a kill, a hunt, and I stared. God damn, He was... why was I thinking these things?
The creature drew off of me, away from me. It drew back towards the water, watching me warily with eyes that were challenged with my own. It drew back, the creature nearly ten feet at the top of its splayed driftwood antlers, and its skull dipped down. It began to recede into the water, and I turned, sitting up, the sand in my hair.
"Wait..." I said, its skull touching the water. He paused, gazing upon me with what I believed to be questioning. "Thank you."
It smiled. The head bowed to me, low, and I saw the clattering shift of beadwork hanging from its driftwood antlers. Beads familiar to me. I stared, with eyes open and wide, seeing my own work amongst hundreds of others. I swallowed, my mouth dry. All those beads, from my great grandmother and down. I stared, and moved up to my knees, then reached out to touch the shoreline, where the water lapped my fingers.
"Kahweah?"
The water answered in reply, only as a ripple.
It came for me in the night.
It had been three years. I had not stepped back to the lake in three years. I had thought it a nightmare, but for the empty shells in my revolver. I had thought it a dream, but for the smell still clinging to my nose, of fresh water, lakeweed, and something inhuman just on the edge of my senses. Three years, before I found myself walking the old route to Kahweah, to the lake hidden in pines and fed by high mountain stream.
I was twenty two, and I returned to the lakeside, where a bear had been torn apart, and I had met a spirit, a monster, or a lake god. Three years, and I returned, with a new tent, and old supplies, with a new gun and old beads, three years worth, held in offering. I sat at the edge of the lakeshore, and I put my feet in the water. The water tickled my feet, and I felt like I was being welcomed.
It came to me in the night, when I stood before the full light of the moon. I stood, my breasts bare in the chill air just before fall, and I stood bare, that my shorts and undergarments, that my shoes rest upon the edge of the lake. The stones were smoothed from centuries of wear, and the sand was soft under my feet, welcoming me. I stood, holding the beadwork in my hands, and I cast them out into the lake, each leather chord landing with a clack of wood, bone, and stone. My work years ago was amateurish to what was now beadwork by a journeyman beadworker. My work now was worth hundreds, and I gave it, freely, to the lake.
If only to thank Him. I stood at the shore, what was probably minutes, but felt longer, as the breeze blew across the lake. I said nothing, but let myself be beneath the light of the full moon, under the attention of whatever wished to see me. I stood, silent, and basked in the moment of singing water, breeze, and moonglow.
I turned only when my legs began to ache from the chill, and it was there that I saw Him again, standing at the shore, ten feet tall and antlers of driftwood clattering with beadwork. He gazed upon me, as long as he was tall, of pale skin striped with glow of green, and of eyes, too many, staring upon me. He held Himself upon His thick legs, ending in webbed feet and raking with claws, His body protruding spikes and sharp edges that guarded outward, but left its belly and abdomen smooth and soft. He gazed at me, watching without sound, as I slowly sank into a kneel in the water, which lapped at my breasts, and bowed my head to Him.
"Thank you, Kahweah." I said. And then His hand, which had torn apart a bear with contemptuous ease, lifted my chin, and claws, sharp enough to splinter bone, gently urged me to stand with Him. I did so, as He closed in on me, and felt those fingers trace my cheek, and across the edge of my lower lip. "Thank you for saving me."
He drew the claw up and took up my tear of thanks, and gently rose it to His skull like face, where His tongue flickered out to lick away the salt and water. He gazed to me, and held my cheek a moment later, and I could sense Him smiling to me. I felt no fear now, only wonder, worship, and a deep, abiding thanks in my belly. He stepped closer, moving into the water with a gliding ease, and His tail rippled the water around it in slow, lapping waves. He came close, and gently stroked a hand through my hair. His hand slid down my back, and I, daring only just to believe this not a dream, lifted my hand up in turn, to touch His abdomen and chest. The flesh was smooth and soft, like caressing the underbelly of an amphibian. Slick, I stepped in to embrace Him.
No more words were needed. No more words need be said, as he drew me up, my bare skin tanned from three days at the lake, and he cupped my buttocks, holding me to his front. I leaned up, and His breath came in a soft wave of musk and watery scents that I had no name for. His hands slid around me, and I felt my legs wrap his middle. No more words were needed, as I pressed my mouth against his, in a manner instinctive, and needy, and with a sudden, wanting lust that burned deep in my groin and chest and head. No more words.
He kissed me, the smooth bone strange to my lips, but his tongue pressed out over long fangs and great teeth, which glowed faintly blue. His tongue met my own, and twined against mine in a kiss that set me on edge, with my toes digging into His lower back. I gripped the spines of his back with my feet, and traced my fingers across his spine, which was ridged and felt like ivory. I felt the spines, and gripped one with a hand, pulling myself up higher as He slowly lowered into the water with me, our mouths still together, and I staring into those too many eyes, which danced green, red, and sometimes, but rarely, a beautiful gold.
No more words. He moved onto his back, though He stuck out of the cold water, and I could see the bones of His body through pale flesh. I could trace His ribs and spine, and down to His hips, where He joined in that monstrous way that I had been dreaming of every night, and I knew I had been called here. My eyes lowered further, even as my cheeks flushed with heat, and I saw that he truly did desire me, for it stood a monstrous size, and a shape that resembled as much the penis of a cetacean as it did a mammal or reptile. It was slick, and the tip pulsed with a throbbing of the urethra. I gazed, then down to His swollen testicles, and knew, deep inside, that I had been called, to take part in something as ancient as my ancestry.
I slid backwards on His body. I moved back in the water, it lapping at my buttocks and back and thighs as I moved over Him, and drew my hands to grasp His claws. He watched me, without a sound, and I felt Him flex against my buttocks, before I lifted myself up and angled back, over Him. I rose up, and then sank down upon the monstrous length of that monstrous, flexing shaft. I took it deep, I took Him into my secret place, and could not help but moan as I was filled with slick, stretching, gaping heat. He was hot, as hot as the lake was cold, and still I sank down, until I could take no more. I was spasming, shuddering, shivering in the feeling. It felt good, right, complete. It was without hesitation that I surrendered to Him my maidenhead. It had always been His, I felt, distantly.
Down, and up, I flexed my thighs and lifted on him, only to fall again. His head was cocked back with an unearthly groan leaving his chest in a deep, rich vibration. His body shuddered, but neither withdrew nor gave a thrust, sat though knowing this was my first time with anyone that was not my own touch. I held his hands tighter, and felt a spasm wash through my belly - making me quiver in heat. I quivered again, another spasm rushing through me when I rose, and dropped, rose, and dropped.
And then I felt it overtake me - a wave of heat that suddenly blossomed up and through me, and I was being filled with Him, washed with His divinity and the monstrous power surged in me with a visible full body shudder through both of Us. For a moment, I saw His soul, and gazed into the rich, loving tapestry of his being. I saw the beads that had been given as offering in the thousands of years past, and I saw His Mark upon me. I saw it, blossoming in my belly. I watched it take shape inside my womb, and I knew then, that I was going to be the next to carry His young.
The moment passed, and I collapsed upon Him. I held Him, and he stroked my back, before he carried me to shore, and lay me on my back, and lay over me. And then, his hips began to move. The next week could only be felt, not remembered - a week, in which I worshiped Him with my body, my hands, and my mouth. A week in which I was his bride, and he filled me in all places, and I was filled by him, in all ways.
He came for me in the dark.
I was twenty three, and beside me was my daughter, her hair as dark as midnight, and her eyes a beautiful tone of green, like her father's...