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The man

and his mount sat atop the granite ridge, looking down the forested slope to

the scene below. It was entertaining, to say the least. He had come this far north at the urging of

old One-Who-Bites-The-Wind, medicine man of the Yokuts in the Valle de los

Tulares. The old Indian had requested a lock of hair from a spirit bear to add

to his medicine bag. The mountain man owed him a big debt, and traveling clear

up to Canada to get this prize was going to cover it and then some. He had

heard legends of spirit bears, but doubted their existence. Turned out the

spirit bear was real alright. Its cream colored fur stuck out from the scenery below

like a whore in church. But getting a lock of its fur might prove a bit more

hazardous than he first suspected. Even Worthless, his piebald mount, snorted

in disgust at the drama unfolding below them.

The spirit bear was about the same size and shape as a black bear. That

put it in the smaller range, as far as bears go. Amos had seen smaller things that

would make an ordinary man blanch with fear. This creature might have looked

cute, but probably only when it was sleeping. The Taquka-aq it was presently facing down was at least twice its

size. He scratched his head, removing the cougar skull cap he wore as a head

piece to do it. A few fleas fled his gnarly finger tips. Taquka-aq

was a local Indian word for what white folks called the Kodiak bear. They could

be tough customers if you didn't know how to talk to them. All it took was one

meeting with the mountain man to teach a bear of at least average intelligence

to give him a wide berth. Those too stupid to desist got a dose of hoof from

his steed. That usually settled the matter. Every creature, no matter how

stupid, was wise enough to value its hide. The

Kodiak was taking exception to the presence of his smaller cousin. The spirit

bear was taking exception to his exception. Standing on its hind legs, the

smaller bear had suddenly grown to twice its size. This inconsistency was lost

on the Kodiak. So too was the sudden enlarging of its opponents paws and claws.

They had grown to the size of manhole covers. Amos was fairly certain they had

the same consistency and solidity. His assumption was rewarded in the

affirmative with the sound of rock hard paws hitting an only slightly less

dense skull. The Kodiak dropped to the ground, its upper half submerged in the

creek. Now

Amos felt a bit sorry for the poor bugger, but it wasn't his fight. He did,

however, feel that just because the big brute was stupid didn't mean he should

die. As it was the bear's head had dropped below the flow of water streaming

over a red granite boulder. He was about to his mount into a gallop when he

witnessed the most remarkable thing yet. The spirit bear bent over and with one

massive heave, tossed the other bear out of the water. Twelve hundred pounds of

ursine landed with a sickening thud on

the gravel bank, bruised but apparently alive. Now, a

bear that can change size on a whim, and can summon the power to toss a Kodiak

aside like a toy Teddy is a creature to be reckoned with. A wise man would have

ducked his head, tucked his tail and slunk away. Amos was wise, but he had earned the nickname "Mad" for his inability to

leave matters mundane or supernatural alone. Besides, he needed a lock of fur.

One way or another, he intended to get it. Even if that meant wrestling this

formidable foe to the ground and holding him in place while he trimmed the

necessary bits with his trusty Bowie. He hoped and prayed it didn't come down

to that. He

nudged Worthless in the ribs. The horse grunted, but didn't move. He instead

turned his head to view his rider. Apparently even he had reservations about

this upcoming encounter. The mountain man looked down distastefully. "What the

hell's wrong with you? It's only a darn bear. It's not like it's a dragon, or a

flame spirit or nothing!" Then he reconsidered. Spirit bear. Maybe there was

more to the legends than he knew. After all, the locals up here went out of

their way to hide the existence of the animals from fur trappers. Maybe it was

to protect the white men from their own unrelenting stupidity. This bear would

turn any potential poacher into mincemeat with two swipes of its paws. Three

would get you hamburger. He

continued to urge the horse forward until it moved, albeit reluctantly, down

the slim trail of broken red stone. The horse snorted in a "what can you do"

tone and sure footedly worked his way down. Down at the bottom, the spirit bear

had returned to fishing in the creek, completely ignoring its former attacker

and the new intruders. Amos stopped to watch as the Kodiak struggled to its

legs. It looked to the creek, then back to the man and his mount. Then, ever so

slowly, with a limp here and a hobble there, it disappeared into the bushes.

Amos almost felt the aches in his own joints. Worthless

ambled a few more steps, and then stopped to browse on the undergrowth. He

wouldn't budge another inch. Amos swung

down from the saddle, pulled out one of his Lemat pistols, shoved it in his

belt and walked down to the creek. He found a suitable boulder and sat atop it,

watching the bear fish for its meal. The thing was not an albino, as first

glance might make it appear to be. It had cream colored fur, and even more

remarkably, green eyes. Very few things set him off, but green eyes were one of

them. It didn't matter if it was man or beast; green eyes held the promise of

the ocean depths, and the hidden wonders of the tropical jungle. The

bear meanwhile snagged a nice fish. Snagged was the right word, for it got

impaled by one of those now-huge claws. The next instant it went sailing

through the air, right towards the mountain man. He ducked and reached out at

the same time, doing a little snagging of his own. He was left holding up the writhing

Piscean in his left hand. The bear turned to see where lunch had gone, and

found it in the clutches of the human. Its eyes narrowed. Amos

tossed the fish back down on the bank, where it flopped about weakly. The bear

meanwhile was sizing him up. It sniffed the air and, the mountain man swore,

made a disgusted face. He wasn't one for hygiene, but he had never had a bear

looked nauseated before! Despite this, it must not have felt threatened, for

instead of standing its full height, it shrunk back down to the size it was

before the territorial dispute. It sauntered over to the fish and began happily

ripping it to shreds. Amos

never moved; he just sat on his rock and watched. From time to time he glanced

over to his steed, which had found a mud hole and was wallowing in it, saddle,

bags and all. It was his way of showing displeasure at their present situation.

Amos ignored him. His eyes returned to the bear, which was now looking up at

his perch with renewed interest. It stood on its hind legs and opened its

mouth. Amos fingered his Lemat. "Ai-sha-wa-outay-wah-he-ne-wa?" Amos felt his jaw drop. He looked down at the

base of the boulder, half expecting the hinged appendage to be lying on the

ground amongst the stones and gravel. It was where it was supposed to be, only

a few inches lower than normal. He pushed it back in place. The bear was

speaking! It weren't no English, but that would have really stunned him. It was

speaking Ts'msyan, one of the regional

languages. That was amazing enough.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> "Osay-ey-a-wah-shena?" he asked

back. Translated, he asked how a bear could talk. What the bear had asked was

this. "What brings a sorcerer in my presence?" That left the situation hanging

in the air. Amos was dumbfounded that it had called him a sorcerer. He had been

called worse in his many years and with less accurate titles for sure. But he

was bewildered how it had come to that conclusion without even having a word

with him. It startled him out of his

reverie when it spoke to him in perfect English. "A bear cannot talk. A bear is

mindful of its belly and its survival. That is about it. In that sense, I too

am a bear. But I can be whatever I want, whenever I want to be it. Today it is

a bear. As for how I know you are more than you seem, all I need to do is to

view your aura. You exude a quiet power that is well hidden to ordinary eyes.

As you have seen with your own, my eyes are far from ordinary." The voice, while originating in

the throat of an ursine, still had a feminine quality to it. Her size might have

suggested it, but with her mutability that was a point he wasn't likely to rely

on. The telltale characteristics would be hidden by fur in her private regions,

and he hadn't been the cad to investigate that area openly. Even with a bear. "Well ma'am, I can honestly say

I have never met the likes of you. I've seen a few things in my time, including

some wayward spirits, but none that looked so fine, and sounded quite as

appealing as you." She stepped a bit closer. "You look to be part bear

yourself, human. I know many of those who inhabit these lands, and none of them

have the fur like you do." He knew she was referring to the local Native

American tribes. Most of them couldn't grow hair from a mole. Amos, now he

required a double-sided broad axe to do his shaving. It would need to be

sharpened three times before he was done. Hence, he didn't bother. He was finding himself getting

pulled into this conversation. "Well ma'am, I live with what life has given me,

and on top of that everything I have learned, seen and done. I don't think that

makes me a sorcerer, but I will bow to your judgment. As for my personal

appearance, it don't do no good fancying up when I can go for weeks without

seeing another person who might care. My hair keeps me warm in the winter, and it

keeps the biting flies off in the summer." The bear was by now looking at

his horse. "Not a sorcerer? You ride a four leg with a fifth one hidden by

magic. Don't tell me you are some simple white man. I find you neither to be

simple, nor to be fully white, nor fully a man. You and your mount both share

breeding outside the realm of normal humans and normal quadrupeds." He mulled

over the fifth leg comment. She had to mean the patch on his horse's forehead,

but that didn't constitute covering a leg. Of course, covering Worthless'

persistent unicorn horn tended to suppress his constant desire to fornicate,

and when that organ protruded, he certainly looked like he had a fifth leg. "Well ma"am, I suppose you've

got me there. Most folk just kind of scratch their heads and make excuses for

us. I do my best to leave most reasonable people alone. No point in getting

them stirred up over nothing." The bear was watching him with those green eyes. "It is well to wear a disguise. The truth can

be hard to swallow. One might swallow a porcupine backwards with greater ease

than he might with plain, open honesty. So man, can you handle the truth?" He slid off the boulder and

approached her. "Truth is slippery stuff ma'am. One man's truth is another

man's lie. I prefer facts. That way, a point of view doesn't ruin the

underlying context, nor the beauty, or ugliness, of what may lie beneath." He

was hinting to her that she herself wasn't what she appeared to be. She was

well aware of that little point. "So, man, what would you have me

be? A wolf? A puma? A buffalo?" With each name she shifted, becoming that

animal, but always in that creamy white color. A spirit buffalo was rarer than

the bear. But when she was done asking, she was back to being a bear again. "You

see man..." He interjected, "Call me Amos ma'am." She started again. "Amos; you

see, I am as you see me. I have no form of my own, only those which I take. If

you wish to gaze upon the real me..." She shifted into a glowing ball of light,

and then back again, "then you must understand that I have no corporeal form.

My existence is a matter of what I make of it. Just like you, I suppose." He was many things, but his body

was as solid as the day he was born. Shifting in and out of reality was beyond

his abilities. "You may have a point there ma'am." She sighed. "Since we are

getting friendly, I suppose I should give you my name Amos. Muwin is what I

prefer, though the natives here have called me by many others." Amos found his

fingers trembling. Muwin was a very old legend. She was correct in that her

name was different among the tribes, but the stories were often the same. Amos knew most of the Indian

lore, from the Iroquois to the Cherokee to the Inuit. The female goddess image

was ingrained into their mythos with great intensity. Muwin was the mother of

all, the creator. She was also the destroyer, when angered. A Kodiak had just

been witness to that power. But the legends said she could raze the world, and

bring it to life anew; with one thought. Perhaps that had been an exaggeration

from the passing of the stories in the standard oral tradition. Either way, he

was planning on treading lightly. "Muwin is it? Then I know of

you. But I can honestly say I didn't come up here with the intention of finding

you." She rumbled a little in her chest. "No one who looks for me ever does

find me Amos. Only those who need me find me. Though perhaps in this case, it's

the other way around." His eyebrows rose, as did the hairs on the back of his

neck. "To be completely honest Muwin,

I came up this way as a favor to a medicine man back down in California. He

requested a lock of hair from a spirit bear." He figured she'd get angry with his words. She

was quite the opposite, laughing a little. "A lock of hair? What good would that

do him? Good medicine comes from the heart of the being giving it out, not from

some bag of stones, leaves, flowers and bones. All that does is provide the

audience with a sense of awe. However, perhaps we can trade. I'll gladly give

you a lock of hair if you give me something in return." His own hairs on the nape of his

neck stood up so straight a drill sergeant couldn't have found anything wrong

with their posture. If this was really

Muwin, she didn't need a thing from him. So her offer was very much unsettling

to his digestion. "Uh. Ma'am, what could I possibly have that you'd need? Seems

to me that you could be, or perhaps provide yourself anything you might desire

on your own." The bear came a little closer. "True. I can do just about

anything. But I am constrained by simple facts. There is only one of me here at

present, and no male. Do you have any idea how lonely that gets? Don't answer that , for I suppose you do, Mad

Amos Malone." Again his eyebrows went up.

"Ma'am, you seem to know a lot about me; more than is natural, nor good for the

average mind. If you're suggesting that I'm your equal, or somehow a ghostly

apparition, you're dead wrong. I wouldn't mind sharing your company. Seems to

me a fellar could learn a thing or two from someone like yourself." The bear managed a quirky smile.

"Equal? Natural? Average? No Amos, I

have only a few equals on this world. So do you. Hence, I would like to propose

that we find some common ground. I would like to offer an exchange." For some

reason his voice box didn't work. It took his brain five minutes of coaxing it

into action before he could form words. "Well ma'am, I don't think I have

anything you could want. All I got his what you see." He made a sweeping

gesture. The bear sighed. "Amos, don't be

obtuse. I have no use for your horse, unique though he is, nor for any of the

things that you carry with you. For example, that firearm would avail you not

in a fight with me, nor would your thundering rifle. What I want in exchange for a lock of my hair

is a child." He figured it was going to be

something like this. There were legends

along this line. "Ma'am, I ain't no kidnapper. If you want me to fetch one from

an orphanage..." The bear stared at him, pondering if he was making fun of her.

She decided he was not. "You stupid man; I don't want someone else's child. I

want my own. By you!" He gulped a few times. "Ma'am, I think you're lovely and

all, but I ain't never bedded nothing that weren't my own species. I mean, you're

about the right size where I wouldn't break ya, but even if I did what you

wanted, there ain't going to be no child from our activity together. The bear shifted in place.

Standing there was the loveliest Indian maiden, dark of skin but with long,

lovely, platinum hair. The only other oddity was the fact that she was a good

six feet tall. "Oh Amos Malone, you are a dear fool. I told you I can be

whatever I want, whenever I want." She

pulled on one of her braids. "If you want some of this, you need to earn it.

I'm certain you know how you're going to do that. If you don't like my offer,

go find another bear." He had done worse things to get

a job done. Looking at her, everything else he had ever done was worse. This

was going to be the best. "Ok Ma'am, if that's what you want. But before we

begin, is there any other rules I should know about?" She wrinkled her nose.

"Yes. Take a bath first. I don't mind a little smell, but you reek as if you

haven't bathed in months!" He began stripping off his leather. "Yes ma'am,

that's about right." She watched him with keen

interest as he peeled layer after layer. Even when his heavily yellowed union

suit was removed he still appeared to be dressed, so thick was his hair. He

walked into the creek and found a shallow pool to immerse in. He grumbled to

himself that bath day was still a month away. She had damn well better

appreciate was he was doing for her. Bathing more than once a year was unheard

of. He had no soap, so made do with

physical effort. At first, the water refused to come in contact with his body.

The liquid swirled around him, leaving just the thinnest layer of air, doing

its best to avoid touching him. He mumbled a few words and the

water desisted. It reluctantly came into contact with his skin, pulling at the

dirt and sweat that had accumulated since the last year. As the dirt washed downstream, trout jumped

out onto the bank, gasping for air. Crayfish flipped out to land happily on the

shore, glad to be free from the polluted water.

Even the hardy little hellgrammites dashed out to sit on the water's

edge. It took a good hour before she

allowed that he was suitably clean. As it was, his skin color changed tones to

three shades lighter. It was an embarrassment. But he was hardly concentrating

on that at the moment. Muwin was standing in there with him. The cold mountain water was rapidly growing

warmer by the minute. Old Amos hadn't bedded a woman

since, well, never you mind. Oh, if you must know, it was Marie Laveau, on the

shores of Lake Pontchartrain. But that is another story entirely. Fact was, she

had had green eyes too, but the painting Catlin had done had not reflected

this. There was a reason. And no, it's none of your business. Let's just say

that where voodoo is concerned, all bets are off. Muwin had settled down into the

water next to Amos. She smiled. "You still smell. But I think I can overlook

it." He was looking into her eyes. His soul was immediately lost, enraptured by

the eddies and currents running through them. Then again, perhaps he was

putting those effects there of his own volition. It didn't really matter.

Pretty soon, he would be in deep regardless. He was always a sucker for green

eyes. Having a woman of a size he felt

he wouldn't break, even a false one like Muwin, was a switch. He knew she could

assume any form and never come to harm, but it was still a relief she had

chosen to assume something bigger than the petite little Indian maidens the

chieftain's kept trying to marry him off to. He had nothing against any of them

other than the fact that he didn't love them, and he would have ruined them

permanently on their honeymoon. Better to let them marry a brave, who would fit

far better than he. In that sense, he was a bit like ole Worthless. Muwin was allowing him his

thoughts. She looked into his eyes, reading them as they passed through his

mind. "My, my Amos. You've had a lot of offers I see. No need to fear such from

me. I have no interest in a formal relationship. Like you, I have entered this

contract with the aim of getting something I want. When we are done, we will go

away happy, or at least satisfied. It seems to me, you've been through a few liaisons

before, so I won't be breaking in a greenhorn. That suits me fine. And you had better make

this tryst last. Every damn male animal in this forest seems to want a piece of

me, but I've seen them perform. Too

quick, in my opinion. I don't dally often, so when I do, I have high

expectations!" Amos wasn't too worried in that

respect. He didn't undress often, and for something like this with someone like

her, he would remain naked a week if necessary. Worthless had already figured

that out and had wandered away to nibble at the blue spruce and the hemlock. It

wasn't that he was hungry, but rather bored with the situation already. Now if

a mare were to be nearby, he might consider that to be interesting! Muwin was no mare, not yet

anyways, but a perfect example of an Amazon woman. She was smaller than Amos, though

in no way inferior. She was also unafraid of making the first advance. She

climbed up on his lap, water flowing around their bodies, where it passed on downstream.

The water soon cleared of his stink, allowing the fish and the rest of the critters

to resume their lives no longer afflicted by his unhygienic blight. In fact, some

of her unnatural hormones washed down too, affecting the animals into a frenzy

of sexual activity. That region was later known for its strange wildlife;

combinations seen nowhere else. No explanation was ever discovered. No one

would have believed it had the truth been told. Amos was more than ready to

attend to this creature's needs, regardless of what their combined bodies might

produce. She wasted no time in dropping herself down over his

more-than-sufficient cock. He knew it hardly mattered what size he would have

been; she would have slipped over a mastodon's cock if it was what she wanted.

Well, that wasn't completely true. There weren't many of those beasties left in

the world. Even she might have a tough time rounding one up. Then again, he had

hair enough to make him look like a hoary elephantus. His cock was as nimble as a trunk and as rigid

as a tusk. He might just play up those

aspects. She was no slouch herself.

Non-corporeal she may be, but she felt as real and as solid as any woman he had

ever bedded before. And she was hot. Her lips pressed against his in a

passionate kiss that left his mouth feeling like it did after he had defeated

that kitchen witch in a soup making contest. Her hot pepper soup had eaten away

the spoon, and his resulting belch of flame had withered the iron pump into

slag. This Muwin could do all that with a kiss! She might not have real blood,

not like ordinary folks, but what she had ran hotter and deeper than any living

being. His cock soon felt like a sausage in the cooker. It wasn't unpleasant

like, but it was causing him some grief in keeping his own temperature down. Pretty soon the water was hissing

and steaming, again threatening the aquatic life with imminent peril. But he

had his own worries. The smell of singed hair was overwhelming what remained of

his own natural odor. Even discretely splashing water on his person didn't help

much. Muwin opened her eyes a crack and noticed the problem. "Oops! I guess I

got carried away. It's not often I get to enjoy myself on the physical plane." She cranked down her internal thermostat until

it hit a mere volcanic level, instead of nuclear. It was still a little too

tropical for his tastes, but half a loaf was better than none. Now that he was able to enjoy

himself a little better, he relaxed back and allowed her to do most of the

work. Not only was this a heap better than before, now he had more water running

over his body to keep him cool. Little flecks of burnt hair swirled away in the

current. Muwin seemed none the lessened in her amorousness by the decrease in

her temperature. She was riding him like the handles of a two-man rail car

going downhill in the Rockies. He was getting into the thrill

of things when she abruptly changed back into the spirit bear. Now Amos had wrestled with many a bear,

mostly Grizzly and Kodiak (as well as one Polar, but that story gets

complicated) and they had all been male and he had had his clothes on. Being

cock deep in a female black bear, albeit a white one, was something new. He

didn't mind, knowing full well Muwin could be whatever she wanted to be. But

there was no way he would have been caught dead doing this with a real bear. Her creamy white, furry ursine

body was as strong and as flexible as had been her human form. And gawd was she

tight. Between the heat and her

squeezing muscles, he was afraid it would be the last time he would ever lay

with a lady, or a female, or anything. On the other hand, he was never gonna be

able to top this. Even that ole voodoo queen hadn't been able to get his blood

boiling like this miss was doing. It soon became apparent that boiling was

going to need to come loose, which it did with as much force as a wayward

hurricane. He shot his load with the force of Napoleon. It damn near felt like

a cannon ball as it passed through his cock on its way to its target. Muwin was well aware when it

hit. A regular gal would have expired under its force, but not her. She simply tightened up and roared with

pleasure. As she rose up from the water, she was still clamped tightly around

certain parts of his anatomy, and he was obliged to raise up with her the best

he could. As she did, he was pulled upright by her sudden change in anatomy.

Rather, she had a drastic change in speciation; she was now suddenly a spirit

bison. He clung to her ass the best he

could. She in turn moved to the bank, where the higher ground made a perfectly

positioned, if a bit precarious perch. Her head turned, and in a low

mooing voice declared, "I like you Amos. Most men would have given up and died.

Not you. Let's see just how much of me you can take!" He had hoped for a

respite, but it appeared his duty was far from over. A woman, a bear, and now a

bison. He was rather debating to himself what her limit might be. But at least

she had dropped her temperature a bit, which was good, since he no longer had

water to help cool his burning libido. A bull bison mounted his cow and

was done quickly. It was the nature of things. You couldn't be preoccupied with

sex with predators out there ready to drag you down and kill you. He knew Muwin

would suffer no such indignity. He was really going to have to earn his prize.

He went to work, thankful that in this form she was a little less constrained

in the nether regions. Since it seemed to be his turn, he went at it with a

vengeance, pounding away for what seemed like an hour. When he blew again, it

wasn't nearly as painful, and a heap more satisfying. She must have found it as

equaling pleasurable, for yet again she shifted. This time he was cock deep in

a white Elk, a creature even he had never heard of, much less seen. She never uttered a

word, only squeezed her internal muscles as an indication that they were not

done. And so it went. After the Elk, she transformed into a Mountain Goat, and

from there to a Moose. When she dropped

down to a wolf, he was momentarily worried he would do her some grave damage,

but she was completely unconcerned. So

it didn't faze him when she turned into a cougar and from there back to her

human form. Night had passed, and it was now

morning again. Both of them remained in the creek, allowing the cool water to wash

away the heat and sweat and well, other things downstream. Amos was plain

tuckered out. He was quietly resting with his eyes closed, glad to be finally

done with his present onus. Therefore he heard the approaching noise of

breaking underbrush well before he would have ever seen it. He cracked open one

eye. From the side there came a bear. If Muwin hadn't been lying beside him; he

would have sworn it was her. Its fur was as creamy white as had been hers. Then

a Moose broke through the tangle of tree branches to stand in the sunlight. It

too was white. And it just continued for the next few minutes. In no time there

was a collection of spirit creatures unlike had ever been assembled before in

one place. Amos coughed, though it sounded more like a choke. Muwin opened her eyes. "Oh, we

seem to have attracted company." She waved her hand in their direction. As one,

all of the animals transformed into women, each of varying looks, which

distinguished them from each other. The only thing they had in common was long,

creamy white hair. They approached in step, wading into the water, which

suddenly grew painfully hot. Amos' partner looked from the

ladies to him. "Amos, I'd like you to meet my sisters. It's not often we find a

man worthy enough, not to mention tough enough, to withstand our needs and

demands. You seem to qualify quite nicely!" The mountain man's jaw dropped,

nearly coming unhinged again. One of the ladies pushed it back into place.

"Don't worry, we'll make it worth your while!" she said with a smile. Somewhere

in the distance he heard Worthless let loose a snicker. It was a week later when a tired

looking Amos, atop his very cantankerous steed, worked his way back down below

the Canadian border. Worthless was less

than happy. His mane was now intertwined with over a dozen white, braided

locks; woven into his own dark hairs. The ladies, or spirits, or whatever they

really were, had endeavored to include the stallion in some of their play.

Worthless had wanted none of it, even when one of the gals morphed into the

sweetest little cream colored mare you could imagine. The equine refused to

comply, which meant that Amos himself was a bigger fool than he initially

realized. When he found out that a few of the ladies had purposely conceived

twins, he was really sweating. The horse was making its way

over large rocks and fallen trees, purposely taking the toughest route home.

Amos swore every time his much abused crotch got rubbed by the saddle. "Easy

there, you good-for-nothing, old fool. I've already had a rough week of riding.

Much more of the way you're going and I'll fall to pieces!" The horse just

whinnied and dropped his fore hoof into a gopher hole, nearly throwing his

rider. By the time they reached California

he was pretty much back in order. As it was, he spent the time in between

slathering on ointment over much of his body, particularly that area that was

used in sitting. He nearly took to walking the whole way back. When he could, he sat with his saddlebags in

his lap, cleaning out the mud that had coated everything. He looked up from his

work to eye his steed. "Worthless, you old bastard, why the hell did you do

this? It weren't like I had much of a choice with that there lady. I weren't

planning on her having sisters." The

half horse, half unicorn eyed him with the pupil that often swirled with the

colors of the cosmos. Amos could see in his mind what he was relaying to him.

All the mountain man could say was, "Oh dear!" He had thought it a mere quirk

that she had pumped him for names for his and her future progeny. He had gone though hundreds before she

settled on an interesting combination. He had not considered that she might be able

to transmute time as well as matter. It gave him pause for thought. It might

also go far in explaining why she morphed into an enormous wolf before fading

into the scenery. He knew his history well enough, and most of the old Greek,

Etruscan, Babylonian, and Roman tales. The one concerning the founding of Rome

was one any history scholar was familiar with.

Thus, there appeared to be just the slightest chance that his future

sons Romulus and Remus where in fact already long dead, having made quite a

splash in the chronicles of time. He could only wonder about the rest of his

kids. Muwin's sisters had not stayed long enough for him to give any names.

Perhaps they had adopted some he had already mentioned, which brought even more

grief. He liked classical names from the human timeline. Genghis Khan,

Cleopatra, Julius Caesar, Aristotle, Leonardo Da Vinci... It opened up a whole

other can of worms he didn't want to think about.