Rale was famished after a day filled with swimming in the lagoon, checking snares, roaming the familiar terrain of Buck's Rump. Water Wings and Freedom's Run were too tame for his taste, except when Kari's plane came in. He'd rather be on Buck's Rump, with its woods and wildness.  Here he didn't have to wear shorts. Here he could feel free, could have the satisfaction of trapping small game, fishing, living as he chose. 

He was independent beyond his ten years. Rale had never cared much for what had to be learned from books. His mother tried to teach him those things, but he preferred what he could learn from the world around him. He knew the weather of the Happenstance Islands. He knew the ways of the small creatures of the islands, which ones were worth catching for food and which were more fun just to watch. He knew how to make a fire without using the matches he brought back in a waterproof wrap from his trips to his mother's kitchen. It was too much trouble for regular use, but he felt good knowing he could do it if he had to. 

He usually dropped in on his mother every day, but sometimes he'd go for several days between visits if he didn't feel like making the paddle. He knew she'd worry if he stayed away too long, so he rarely let more than four days go by without checking in. Today was the third day. He'd have to go tomorrow, but now he settled down to enjoy his rabbit. 

As he lifted the first morsel to his mouth he heard a faint sound from the woods behind him. His ears pricked and turned toward the sound. Probably just some varmint, but he hesitated before starting to eat. When he heard nothing more, he took a mouthful and started chewing. He enjoyed knowing that his own efforts had gotten it as much as he did the juicy meat itself. His tail wagged unconsciously. A soft, satisfied purr rose in his throat as he ate. 

*    *    * 

Hardrock Pumawolf pulled himself out of the water onto the narrow beach and stretched out naked warm air. Everything he owned was in the small bundle he'd towed behind him as he swam, things like his knife and some clothes to wear when he had to. Buck's Rump had been an easy swim from Freedom's Run and he was sure he'd made the right decision in coming here rather than staying on the larger island. There would have been too many people there, too many curious eyes and prying questions. He wanted only to be left alone, to roam free from clothing's encumbrance, free to feel the sun on his face and the wind in his fur and around his balls. He'd learned from the seaplane's pilot on the flight to Freedom's Run that Buck's Rump was uninhabited except for a small boy who wandered there sometimes. If he stayed out of the boy's way he should be able to live indefinitely on the wild food plants and small animals that were sure to be here. 

As a warm breeze dried his fur, he thought back over the path that had brought him here. He hadn't always been Hardrock Pumawolf, but he couldn't remember the name he'd once had. He'd chosen this name to distance himself from his Johns and Janes, lonely people who found his trim muscularity attractive and wanted to use his body to escape their loneliness for a while. 

Hardrock! Hard-as-a-rock! Unapproachable at any emotional level. Those stupid folks he serviced thought it referred to his phallic prowess, but he knew better. He had never let anyone inside the wall he'd built. They'd screw you in other ways than physically if you did that. 

They'd paid well for his services, though he never saw the money unless they chose to leave him a tip. The fees went to the pimp who owned him, who gave him spending money now and then but was careful never to give him enough at one time for a ticket out of town. 

He remembered too well the John who had demanded a service so depraved even Hardrock was unwilling to provide it, and who had refused to take no for an answer. Words had led to harsher words, then to blows and a torn-out throat. Hardrock had hid the body as well as he could and had then run for freedom in the reserve public lands with five years' tips he'd been saving. 

Seven years later he was here on Buck's Rump; seven years spent mostly as a fauve, wandering, living on his wits and strength and skill, and what money he could pick up for odd jobs or from an occasional John. Fauves weren't supposed to have money, but folks ignored that unless they saw a real advantage in making it an issue; fauve money spent just as well as anybody else's. 

The fare on the seaplane that had brought him to Freedom's Run had taken the last of what he had. The pilot, a competent, friendly fennec called Kari, had told him a little about the place and the woman who owned it. From what Kari had said, Sylvia Slipsunder had sounded like someone who probably wouldn't be too concerned about a man living on the island in her lagoon as long as he didn't make trouble or bother her son when he was there. He hoped Kari was right. 

As the sun sank lower over the island behind him, Hardrock returned from his reverie and looked around. The trees on this side of the island came down almost to the steep, sandy beach, though he'd seen from the plane that the western side was less forested. He walked into the trees and started his exploration. He had less than an hour before darkness would fall. 

He'd noticed a small inlet a little to the north, and headed that direction. When he emerged from the trees he saw a small, well-worn canoe pulled up on the beach on the opposite shore. "Uh-oh," he thought, "Looks like I've got company." Moving silently now, he went back into the trees and started inland parallel to the shore. At the head of the inlet he found a small stream. "Probably comes from a spring up the hill a ways," he thought. "Good to know where there's fresh water!" He crossed the stream and moved down the other side of the inlet in the deepening twilight, thinking, "Better to know who's here. Don't want any surprises." 

As he neared the spot where he'd seen the canoe, his nose picked up a tantalizing aroma. "Must be supper time !" The smell reminded him that he'd had nothing to eat since the midday sandwich on the plane. "Maybe I'll just check this out." 

Soon he saw a compact bed of glowing coals in a small clearing, a figure silhouetted against its light. "Too small for a man... Must be the Slipsunder boy... Should've guessed he'd be here." 

Intent on the boy and the fire, he misstepped and a twig snapped under his foot. "Damn! Getting careless! Can't afford that, even if it's just a kid!" Ears twitched and turned toward the sound, but the boy continued about his business. "Pretty cool kid," Hardrock thought. "Pretty sure of himself." 

He stood watching silently for several minutes while the boy ate. Finally he stepped forward into the light. 

"Hi!" 

"Hi!" came the response. "I'm Rale. Who're you?" Rale saw a silver-gray form, maybe six feet tall, well muscled and good-looking, but sort of sad-looking too. 

"Hardrock. It's about the only name I've got."

"Neat name! Want something to eat?" 

"Sure! You got enough?" 

"Yeah, I think so, if you're not too hungry." 

"I can manage. I'm used to being hungry. Sure smells good!" 

"It's a rabbit. I caught it myself!" Rale said proudly. "I do that a lot. It's more fun eating what you've caught yourself." 

"It's not much fun when that's all you can get. Sometimes a guy can get pretty hungry living just on what he can catch." 

"Yeah. I always go home if I can't catch anything and get too hungry. Where's your home?" 

Walls crumbled before the boy's innocent directness and openness. "I don't know. Wherever I am, I guess. Home hasn't meant much to me for a long time, and what it meant then was pretty bad, best I can remember. I can't really remember much about it.  Probably a good thing." Hardrock's face clouded. 

"I haven't seen you before. How'd you get to Buck's Rump." 

"I swam over this afternoon. Came in on the plane today." 

"Yeah. I saw it come in. I usually go meet it, but today I stayed here to check my snares. Good thing I did, or this rabbit would've hurt itself trying to get loose. Might even have chewed its own leg off. I wouldn't like that. It's OK to kill a rabbit to eat it; that's quick; but I'd feel pretty bad if it hurt itself. My mom's part rabbit, so I am too, but that's different. I'm mostly otter. What're you?" 

"I think I'm puma and wolf. Sometimes I'm more one, sometimes more the other." 

"You mean you can change when you want to?" Rale's eyes got wide. 

"No, it just happens. When I'm mad I'm more puma. When I'm contented, or with somebody I like, I'm more wolf. Like now."
"Neat! Can I see you be puma?" 

"I hope you never have to." 

"Oh.......Right!" 

They talked as they ate, getting to know each other, then lapsed into silence, each absorbed in his own thoughts. 

Suddenly Rale said, "I feel a thunderstorm coming. Let's go up top and watch it!" 

"Won't that be dangerous? What about lightning?" 

"Naw. Lightning never strikes here. It just plays around in the clouds. I do it all the time." 

"You're sure it's OK?" 

"Yeah. C'mon!" He started up a path toward the top of Buck's Rump and Hardrock followed. 

"Neat kid!" he thought to himself. "He's what I wish I could have been...   He's his own boss...   He goes where he wants, when he wants...  He's loved; I mean really loved, the good kind of loved...   He's like a kid brother, or what I'd like my son to be if I ever had a son...   That's not likely, though...   Can't get much enthusiasm for mating with a female...   Not made that way, I guess...   Did it when I had to, but it never was the same as with a man." 

Halfway up the hill, Rale reached back for Hardrock's paw. "It'll be easier this way. I know the way even when it's dark." 

"OK." Hardrock grasped Rale's small paw in his and they continued up the path. 

They emerged from the trees at the top of Buck's Rump and stood naked to the warmth of the rising wind. A full moon rode low behind them in the eastern sky, among scattered clouds. The stars were brilliant overhead, but darker clouds approached swiftly from over Fairport Island. 

Hardrock had a feeling of anticipation, a feeling that something important was about to happen, something that could change his life. Rale reached out to put an arm around his waist. He responded with his own arm across Rale's shoulder, drawing him close. It felt right, somehow, like this was the way things were supposed to be. 

Thunder growled, but the sound didn't frighten him. Behind them a cloud hid the moon. As the storm came closer he could see lightning flashing inside the thundercloud. The cloud hid the stars and he felt a drop of rain warm on his face, then a second on his shoulder, and another on his chest. Faster the drops came, and faster still, until the two of them stood surrounded by the storm. Warm rain soaked their fur. Lightning illuminated the top of the island. Thunder enveloped them. Still Hardrock felt no fear of rain or lightning or thunder; he felt only closeness with the storm and the boy at his side. 

Then abruptly Hardrock knew fear; intense, long-forgotten fear! He was a five-year-old boy cowering before the man who towered above him; a five-year-old cowering in fear of a man he had loved but no longer knew, a man he couldn't know when the man was like this; a man whose love was now something else that was not love; something he didn't like, couldn't understand, and thus feared. 

"It's been lonely here since your ma died. You wouldn't want your pa to be lonely, would you? You want to take your ma's place, don't you? Sure you do, boy. Sure you do!" There was more, much more, the words slurred with alcohol...   pleading...  demanding...   insistent. 

Strong fingers forced his jaws apart and something hard and unpleasant filled his mouth, filled his throat until he gagged. He wanted to bite it so it would stop, but he didn't dare. Time seemed infinite. He could hardly breathe. He could hardly think. 

All he could think was, "This isn't really happening! 

"This can't be me! 

"This must be somebody else!" 

So he became someone else; someone who could watch from outside; someone who could watch without feeling, without having to feel. He was only distantly aware when the intruding member withdrew from his mouth and forced its way in beneath his tail. He didn't feel the pain; he didn't feel the violation; he didn't feel the betrayal. This was happening to someone else! His father wouldn't do this to him! This man was not his father! This was someone else doing this to someone else. All the many times it happened again in the years that followed happened to someone else; happened to someone who didn't matter; someone who could be forgotten; someone who had to be forgotten because he didn't matter. 

So he forgot. 

For all those long years he forgot. 

Now, in the fury of the storm, Hardrock remembered. 

Now, with Rale's boyish form snuggling against him in the downpour, he could finally remember! 

Memories flooded in like the rain that drenched his body. 

Memories threatened to overwhelm him, to wash him away, but anchored by the boy who held him close, whom he held close, he remembered those years of being used by his father, of being used by the men his father brought home when he'd been drinking. 

He remembered the shame, the pain, the humiliation -- the betrayal. Above all, he remembered the betrayal. 

He remembered the name he'd once had, a name he would never again use or even speak.
He felt the warm rain wash away that name, and with the name went the humiliation and pain and shame. 

He felt the beginning of healing. 

The storm was in him, and he was in the storm. He felt Rale warm beside him and the wind warm on his body. He stood letting rain and wind wash him clean inside and out,  healing him in body and in spirit. 

So much had happened, and so fast, but he knew that this was the thing he had anticipated, a thing that would indeed change his life. 

He felt at one with the storm, and with more than the storm; he felt at one with all Therion, with all creation, and with the trusting boy beside him. 

Never, he swore, NEVER would the thing that had happened to him happen to this boy. He would protect this boy with every ounce of his strength, with his dying breath if need be... 

There was not as much rain. The storm moved swiftly on past the island. Man and boy stood close, watching the lightning and listening to the thunder as the clouds moved eastward. The stars came out again and the warm wind dried their fur and skin. Hardrock was somehow sad that the storm had gone, but he knew that this was his storm -- was their storm -- and their island and their sky and their night. 

For the first time in too long he could feel, could feel willingly and openly. 

In his healing heart he felt...no, he KNEW...that he and Rale had become part of storm and island and sky and night... 

and that all these had become part of the two of them... 

and that the two of them had become part of one another forever, no matter how their paths might part and cross and rejoin. 

He hoped Rale could feel it as well; if not, that was OK too. 

Arms still around one another like brothers, they started back down the hill.