They were rolling off in the dark of predawn toward winter by sunset out of the town of American Grandfathers called Washington, after the CherryTreeKiller Ancestor, who was called by the same name. This town was also named District of Columbia after the Spanish canoe-house chief Columbus who was the first of his kind to find Mother Earth and enslave and rubout her People. Three-Rivers felt good to be leaving such a vile place that had been built to honor such crude warlike men.

He-Who-Makes-Rivers has chosen you to continue his quest to unite the People of Mother Earth. You are about to invoke his sky-splitting father’s power on his behalf. Do so at the proper place of reverence.

Where Father? Where is the proper place of reverence?

Silence within.

Think Thunder-Boy, you are fighting the spiritual half of the same battle that DeathSong fights with his hands. You both fight evil men and demons in this world and others. Where have these forces of evil crossed paths?

“T.T. head to Crossing Rock.”

“Where do you want to go kid?”

“Yes, of course, you would know it by its’ irreverent Sunset name, Harper’s Ferry.”

“You got it kid, Harper’s Ferry it is.”

Eddie was curious. “Yo, Three-Rivers, what’s so important about Harper’s Ferry?”

“Many things Eddie: it is a place called park to be preserved in the Sunset way and should not be dug-up so much over the coming winters; it is also a place where at least one demon from Further Sunset was killed; where Meadow Hawk—the demon’s killer—came to me in a dream; where DeathSong led the Spanish chiefs to their doom; and where other evil men such as Big Chief Washington have passed during their taking of Mother Earth from her People, and in their fussing over it between themselves.”

T.T. spoke up, “You know, it is a Civil War landmark, where John Brown was martyred trying to free the slaves. Frederick Douglas spoke there.”

Three-Rivers was ecstatic over this revelation. “This is auspicious brothers; Crossing Rock is a place where good and evil collide. This is where I must transform and from where we must seek out the Masters of Furthest Sunset. They are the most powerful and evil of the White Men. We should parley with their chiefs.”

Eddie was incredulous. “You mean we goin’ to the future son?”

“Yes Eddie, it is the only way.”

“The only way for what, gettin’ our asses kilt? Besides, I sent Jay dare, and he said neva ta go dare—said it was a bad trip!”

“This makes the sensible conclusion Eddie. We must go for two reasons: the first is because we must take this hoop to the future—the wrong way for it so-to-speak—in order to convert it into a loop capacitator; the second reason is because we are medicine-men at war Eddie. When a medicine-man goes to war he goes to where the enemy’s medicine is, and then only to the enemy warriors after the enemy’s medicine has been defeated, or at least weakened or understood. You with me son?”

Eddie high-fived him with a look of dread on his face. “Here’s lookin’ out son.”

The trip to Crossing Rock was uneventful and even quiet, as T.T. picked his way over the darkened thundertrails, Eddie worried over the dangers ahead, and Gerald slept off his hangover—too much Hennessy for a squirrel can make for a sleepy totem.

Meditate Thunder-Boy; remember the light that flashes behind your mind’s-eye when the dead walk, the trees talk, and Mother Moon offers up her deathly embrace…

Dawn was breaking over the old-town-of-White-People-past called Harper’s Ferry, which had been built on Crossing Rock by some smelly White canoe-guide no doubt.

At the top of the town they found a killing field where White Men of Summer had fought White Men of Winter over the plight of Burnt Men. This, they decided was a good place to park the conversion van. It was also the best time of day for invocations, so they hurried to the highest point and gathered around.

This action is blessed by the Dawn Spirits.

Three-Rivers did not have to set the grounding equations beneath the place where the hoop would activate, as they were converting this unit from a branch capacitator to a loop capacitator. He first activated the hoop by setting the translocator to this year, the year of 2012. The hoop then made a cracking whoop and hovered between them—lighter than air and heavier than the world—as the thunder-hoops do when they take on the essence of Thunderer. A cloud-like picture emerged within the hoop showing the flow of thunder-medicine in this part of Sunset. It was not actually necessary to pre-activate the hoop in this way. But Three-Rivers liked the ritual aspect of this.

I come to you Chief of Thunder, Looser of Rain, Father of He-Who-Makes-Rivers!

T.T. held out his hand for Gerald to perch on, as they would all be grabbing the hoop shortly. Three-Rivers then set all four activator dials to 2844, the last year that one could travel to. Eddie then checked that all four dials were set for the correct date. Three-Rivers then motioned for his companions to grab the hoop around their perspective dial as they stood in a close circle. He then set the translocator dial to the target date and wound it back until it clicked before grabbing his own dial.

A surge of limitless strength poured through them and they all groaned, except for Three-Rivers who laughed a laugh that sounded like buckets of White-ancestor-tokens being eaten by the coin swallowing machine at the coin-trader’s…

Here we come!

The dream-catcher then became fully possessed by Thunderer. Three-Rivers’ nine numbers and the numbers of his companions whirled around him like leaves swirling on an autumn wind. These then combined and became a bigger number—still of only nine numbers but drawn with a larger bleeding stick called pen—which turned into a thunderbird with thunderbolts for wings, stars for eyes, clouds for feathers, mountain peaks for talons and the roar of countless late summer storms for its screech.

As had happened in his final journey to Dawn Time he took on the likeness of Father. He became WhiteSkyCanoe; tall as a tree, spare in the way of austere elders, flowing white hair bound back and adorned with the feathers of owls, eagles, egrets and geese, chest hung with a goose-bone plated vest, face blank with repose. He stood on the back of the thunderbird holding T.T. Redbone—curled up like a baby—in one hand, while Eddie and Gerald Hicks—who appeared as a short Burnt Man—sat on the palm of his other hand. Eddie was playing his harmonica and Gerald was drinking his Hennessy.

Mister Redbone is not well. You must see to his spirit.

They were flying through the limitless void called Space-Time by Holy Robinson, along a spiraling cloudbank which contained countless sparkling stars. The thunderbird veered through the center of this vine-like being of cloud and star, through a pond of blackness. They emerged on the other side of the pond of blackness into the very same place. The thunderbird spied the spiral arm of cloud and star down which they had flown. He then screeched and flew back along this arm, which was now in a different position, but never-the-less remained the same.

He kissed T.T. on the back of his head and recited the Prayer for Sorrowful Warriors. The thunderbird soared along the sparkling cloudbank until it came to an eddy of cloud and ice and rock swirling around a blazing ball of fire. Just beyond the flickering flames of this inferno floated a small blue rock, like a child warmed by a campfire but only one step from death. The thunderbird screeched and plunged towards this blue rock.

This is Mother Earth as seen by Thunderer, as set upon the River of Life by The Beginner.

They passed by old barren Mother Moon as she reached out to receive the souls who floated up from her fertile sister. They first plunged through the light blue sky above the clouds. Then, after piercing the wispy cloudbank they soared down through the richer blue of the sky as seen by the people below. Soon the calm waters of the Stream-that-tumbles-down-by-the-hills were beneath them as they raced on soaring wings to the Wild-Goose-River. The mighty thunderbird rose on wing when he encountered the updraft at the convergence of the two rivers and soared high above, bringing them down amongst the lifeless open forest above Crossing Rock. The bird then rose to become a cloudbank high above.

He was standing there holding hands with the others. T.T. was rising from one knee as if recently recovered from an illness, seeming weak, even though he carried such a heavy pack. The giant did not tower quite so high now. Gerald sprang from the giant’s hand onto Three-Rivers back. He looked up at Eddie before releasing his hand, and noticed also, that this young man did not seem so tall as before.

“We have passed safely friends. Thank The Beginner.”

The others nodded, but just stared at him. When he made to move his feet hurt. He looked down and saw that his toes were bursting from his cowboy boots and that his slacks only reached to mid-shin. Likewise, the sleeves of his shirt and jacket did not reach his wrists, and were so tight that they were uncomfortable. Gerald spoke first, “Loogs like somebody had a lille growth spurt! It a betta view now if ya aks me.”

He then noticed that the hoop was gone, “Eddie, T.T., the hoop, where is it?”

Eddie spoke up, “I guess we need to look. It can’t be far.”

They began looking around under the evenly spaced trees, the White People things of the massacre field such as the fence and memorial plaques, now being gone. His clothes were so tight he decided to undress except for his hat and socks and the wife-beater and underpants, which were fortunately flexible. It was very, very cold, with a light snowfall on the ground, and scattered flakes coming down.

Cold will be good for you. It will clear your mind for visions and test your spirit.

By the time he had taken off his clothes it was clear that he was now just over five feet tall, nearly the size of a small man! The others were now staring at him with wonder and fear in their eyes.

“What is it Eddie?”

“Oh-my-God son, you got a time-machine up yo ass! What did you do—look!”

Eddie was pointing at his belly button, just below where his undersized wife-beater reached. He pulled up his skin-tight shirt and looked at his belly button. What he saw was a band of glowing sun-colored liquid with sky-colored numbers floating through it just under his skin. Nothing could have made him happier! He grinned and looked at his friends while still holding up his undersized undershirt. “‘That’s it’ as they say on Sunset. I am Thunder-Boy! How about this for kicking some ass Eddie?!”

Gerald was beside himself, “You loog like a Goddamn alien boy. I liked ya betta as a Porto Rican!”

T.T. just shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, I just road a thunderbolt. A plasma screen wrapped around your belly isn’t going to freak me out. Heck, two days ago you were three-and-a-half-feet tall and had one eye green and one brown and could not stand up straight. You look like a normal kid now. I think it’s a good deal.”

Eddie was upset though. “How we gonna travel through time now?”

“Oh silly man, just grab Thunder-Boy’s hand!”

Eddie was rubbing his head now. “Yeah, I guess that—ain’t dis freakin’ you out? You ate a time-machine son!”

“It’s all good Eddie. Okay, now we have to find some evil masters. Where should we look?”

You knew this day would come Father. Now I understand your insistence on transformative ghost-walking. I am whole of mind only because I am possessed by your imperishable spirit. May I achieve the serenity necessary to walk in your footsteps WhiteSkyCanoe.

T.T. brought him forth with a light touch of his head-sized hand. “Are you okay kid?”

“Yes, A-okay Mister Compassionate Redbone. I was simply communing with the ghost of my ascendant father. I am possessed you know.”

The giant withdrew his hand with a worried look and scanned the horizon for danger as warriors do.

Eddie was busy digging through his pack. “Look son, put on my slippers and Tuxedo—we jus’ roll up the sleeves en cuffs en you can grow into the rest. I’ll get back into my Superfly threads. I brought dem for a change a clothes. Now nobody is freezin’ dey ass out here. This place is colda’ den home by a lot!”

T.T. pointed towards Sunrise across the strange landscape that contained none of the ever-present buildings of the White People that he had expected. On the horizon he could see a great campfire flickering at an unthinkable distance, a warm, cozy, welcoming fire, the kind one tells stories around.

“T.T., should we go to the campfire?”

“What campfire? That’s a church steeple.”

Eddie then spoke up, “I don’ know what you two blind-ass fools be lookin’ at, but all I see is a big-ass Christmas tree.”

This is very interesting.

He then turned to his faithful squirrel as he finished changing into Eddie’s tuxedo and put on his pimp hat. “Mister Gerald Hicks, what do you see on the horizon?”

“It’s a electric sign advertisin’ Crown Royal liquor—some smooth stuff dat is.”

This is a trick, a trap. We are being hunted by a hunter who does not wish to move, but rather waits in ambush.

“Brothers, we all see that which we want to see. We are being drawn into a trap. I do not know about you, but I am not the mallard who falls in love with a painted duck, only to have Randy Bracken shoot my head off with his thunder-stick! Let’s go to this trap to see who it is that sets out these lethal offerings.”

As he hefted his magic stick he switched to squirrel for Gerald’s benefit, “It’s a trap Gerald. Do not drink any Crown Royal or it might drink you.”

Gerald groused, “So dey got Whitey runin’ dis joint too. No saprise dare—waderin’ down da liquor too I bet!”