nineteen twenty-nine,” Isaac grinned, gesturing
towards Donovan. “Oh yeah, there is much history between all of us.” Isaac continued.
“Yeah man, Donovan saved my ass when in Vietnam. We’re like family, you know, so
his fight is our fight. Anyone fucks with Donovan, his clan, or his family has to
deal with us.” Brady said, lighting up another cigarette.
The men continued talking, putting a plan into place….
* * * *
Thorne angrily smashed the tin trash can with his foot, causing it to buckle. He
was pissed because they searched the city in vain. Thorne cringed at the thought
of someone killing Melanie.
“You mean to tell me, you traced her all the way here from New Orleans, but you
can’t sense her now?” Ronnie asked, becoming agitated at the wasted time. “Unfuckingbelievable!”
the man exclaimed.
Thorne leaned against the brick building in the alley, holding his head in his hands.
Slowly, he slid down on his haunches, trembling. Regret, guilt, and fear ate his
insides like a cancerous tumor, leaving him helpless as an infant.
"Thorne." Hawk called the man. “Thorne, come on, snap out of it, you must focus.”
The shaman commanded. “We don’t have time for this.” Feeling his pain, Hawk and
Ronnie tried consoling the young man.
"Oh God, what if…what if she’s dead? The last thing on her mind would be the way
I reacted towards her, what if…
Ronnie squatted next to Thorne, grabbing the man’s large forearm.
“You know, young wolf, your feelings shine through for Melanie. She’s not dead,
she’s still alive,” Ronnie said, sniffing the city air.
“How do you know?” Thorne asked, his eyes glazed over with defeat.
“I just know, I can’t explain it, but Raphael and this hunter is using dark magic
to mask her presence, I’ll tell you that.” Ronnie suggested. “Ain’t that right Hawk?”
The elderly Native American closed his eyes, and his body shook hard, in an effort
to pierce through layers of magic. A low humming sound developed in his throat,
eventually growing stronger, and he erupted into a prayer like chant in their Chippewa
tongue.
“I love it when he does this.” Ronnie said proudly. “He’s focusing, tapping into
the Earth’s powers.” Ronnie said, grinning at the shaman.
"Thorne rose to his feet, studying Hawk with much intensity. A glowing white aura
formed around the old shaman, and Ronnie and Thorne witnessed Hawk’s dual totem
spirit. The wise old man’s wendigo proudly raised it’s head, howling in the air,
and the bear spirit, from his mother’s people stood on hind legs, rearing his head
back, allowing a mighty roar to pass it’s lips.
“Now, that’s power,” Ronnie said, almost in a whisper as the shaman held his arms
out wide, receiving knowledge from the universe.
Thorne looked on in awe, truly appreciating the Old One’s will and strength, working
with Mother Earth to obtain answers. For the first time since his parent’s destruction,
Thorne opened himself up to that power. For centuries, he ran on sheer physical
strength and brawn, ignoring the spiritual gifts readily available to any of the
clan members. Almost every member of the Black Claws possessed a certain power that
ultimately held the clan together in more ways than one. Now, for the first time,
Thorne fully understood what it meant to be a proud wendigo warrior. He also knew,
it would take him a long time to regain Melanie’s trust, but he was up for the challenge
and willing to do whatever it took to make the necessary changes for Melanie and
his clan.
The Elder, Hawk was self-sacrificing in every way imaginable. Throughout the years,
he selflessly battled demons, manitous, and other dark malevolent beings that had
plagued the clan from time to time. Thorne was a good leader in his own right, and
currently, he was learning his life lesson through ultimate power.
The bright aura around Hawk subsided and the man dropped to one knee, causing the
young men to rush to the
towards Donovan. “Oh yeah, there is much history between all of us.” Isaac continued.
“Yeah man, Donovan saved my ass when in Vietnam. We’re like family, you know, so
his fight is our fight. Anyone fucks with Donovan, his clan, or his family has to
deal with us.” Brady said, lighting up another cigarette.
The men continued talking, putting a plan into place….
* * * *
Thorne angrily smashed the tin trash can with his foot, causing it to buckle. He
was pissed because they searched the city in vain. Thorne cringed at the thought
of someone killing Melanie.
“You mean to tell me, you traced her all the way here from New Orleans, but you
can’t sense her now?” Ronnie asked, becoming agitated at the wasted time. “Unfuckingbelievable!”
the man exclaimed.
Thorne leaned against the brick building in the alley, holding his head in his hands.
Slowly, he slid down on his haunches, trembling. Regret, guilt, and fear ate his
insides like a cancerous tumor, leaving him helpless as an infant.
"Thorne." Hawk called the man. “Thorne, come on, snap out of it, you must focus.”
The shaman commanded. “We don’t have time for this.” Feeling his pain, Hawk and
Ronnie tried consoling the young man.
"Oh God, what if…what if she’s dead? The last thing on her mind would be the way
I reacted towards her, what if…
Ronnie squatted next to Thorne, grabbing the man’s large forearm.
“You know, young wolf, your feelings shine through for Melanie. She’s not dead,
she’s still alive,” Ronnie said, sniffing the city air.
“How do you know?” Thorne asked, his eyes glazed over with defeat.
“I just know, I can’t explain it, but Raphael and this hunter is using dark magic
to mask her presence, I’ll tell you that.” Ronnie suggested. “Ain’t that right Hawk?”
The elderly Native American closed his eyes, and his body shook hard, in an effort
to pierce through layers of magic. A low humming sound developed in his throat,
eventually growing stronger, and he erupted into a prayer like chant in their Chippewa
tongue.
“I love it when he does this.” Ronnie said proudly. “He’s focusing, tapping into
the Earth’s powers.” Ronnie said, grinning at the shaman.
"Thorne rose to his feet, studying Hawk with much intensity. A glowing white aura
formed around the old shaman, and Ronnie and Thorne witnessed Hawk’s dual totem
spirit. The wise old man’s wendigo proudly raised it’s head, howling in the air,
and the bear spirit, from his mother’s people stood on hind legs, rearing his head
back, allowing a mighty roar to pass it’s lips.
“Now, that’s power,” Ronnie said, almost in a whisper as the shaman held his arms
out wide, receiving knowledge from the universe.
Thorne looked on in awe, truly appreciating the Old One’s will and strength, working
with Mother Earth to obtain answers. For the first time since his parent’s destruction,
Thorne opened himself up to that power. For centuries, he ran on sheer physical
strength and brawn, ignoring the spiritual gifts readily available to any of the
clan members. Almost every member of the Black Claws possessed a certain power that
ultimately held the clan together in more ways than one. Now, for the first time,
Thorne fully understood what it meant to be a proud wendigo warrior. He also knew,
it would take him a long time to regain Melanie’s trust, but he was up for the challenge
and willing to do whatever it took to make the necessary changes for Melanie and
his clan.
The Elder, Hawk was self-sacrificing in every way imaginable. Throughout the years,
he selflessly battled demons, manitous, and other dark malevolent beings that had
plagued the clan from time to time. Thorne was a good leader in his own right, and
currently, he was learning his life lesson through ultimate power.
The bright aura around Hawk subsided and the man dropped to one knee, causing the
young men to rush to the
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