Wings of Love

Chapter 1-2

Manuel Ortega halted to rest on a point just south of Baboquivari Peak, where the white men’s telescopes had displaced the old gods of his people. He had mixed feelings about that. Although he recognized the importance of looking beyond the protective cocoon of the earth and her atmosphere, he still thought another peak could have done the job as well and left the mountain spirits in peace in their sacred spot.

He loved high places. If he could, he’d spend most of his time in places like this, with the greater part of his people’s ancestral home spread out beneath him. The Tohono O’odham was an ancient and honorable tribe, deeply rooted in the harsh desert lands. They had wrested their livelihood from the earth’s seldom seen bounty there for countless generations. Many of them bore Hispanic names, heritage of a long association with the people of Mexico beginning with the conquistadores who had explored this land centuries ago.

Manuel welcomed a day off from his duties as an officer in the U.S. Border Patrol. The job paid well and let him care for his aging parents, but there were times he was not happy with his work. The job trapped him with too many people, too many tense, angry, and bitter emotional currents and sometimes required him to perform tasks he felt were so wrong he almost rebelled against his orders. He spent his free days as far away from the pressures and stifling atmosphere of work as he could, usually in the mountains.

The sun dropped to perch on the jagged edge of the distant ranges to the west, mountains bordering the Colorado River. The sight reminded him he needed to start for home. Fortunately, he had an easier way to get there than a twenty-mile hike over the rugged terrain that fell away beneath him. Tucking his head down, he shut his eyes and felt his essence slip into another form. Then he spread strong, bronze-feathered wings and launched into the air.

He’d been about twelve the first time he discovered he could shift form. Always adventurous and inclined to explore alone, that day he’d climbed into a canyon in a new area of the desert mountains and discovered a hidden ruin of the ancient ones. It took him half a day to scramble up the steep and unstable hillside to reach the spot. He’d slipped in through a narrow doorway in the rough stone wall that blocked the front of a cave under a ledge. Inside, he found only a few beads and shards of pottery. It was really not very exciting, but he’d sensed himself in a secret, sacred place, one where perhaps nobody had been for centuries. That fact alone thrilled him.

Crawling back out, he started to pick his way down. Rocks rolled suddenly. He slipped and began to tumble down the hill. Directly below him lurked one vertical drop of about fifty feet. He’d climbed around it on his way up, but it looked now like he was going to fall right over the edge. Panic hit for a moment followed by a strange calm. Shutting his eyes and wishing desperately that he could fly, something unexpected had happened. All at once he was flying!

He would hold that memory forever. Finally safe back on level ground, he’d been scared shitless at first that he wouldn’t be able to change back, but he managed to do it. After a few more times, the process became smooth and close to effortless. He just thought himself in the familiar winged form and changed. It was that easy. He had no notion how and why, only knew it worked.

As far as he could tell, no one shared his secret. He certainly hadn’t dared tell anyone, not even his grandfather, who was a medicine man. Although the Tohono O’odham did not have the same superstitious fears about “skin walkers” or shape-shifting witches as did the Navajo and Apache, Manuel still doubted the tribe could accept his gift. They might deem him wicked and unnatural, even bad enough to exile him from their homeland. Such punishment would be unbearable. To the people of the desert, family and tribe were the essence of one’s identity and a necessity for survival.

Soaring lower over the foothills, he caught sight of two men, gradually approaching each other across some of the foothill ridges. They both wore dark clothes, but only one carried a rifle. The rifle bearer crossed through a saddle and settled himself under a twisted tree. His actions piqued Manuel’s curiosity. What was he planning to do?

Then the other man crested the long hill to the northwest of the first man’s hiding place and stopped, partly concealed in a stand of scrubby creosote and burro weed. Down in the lower east-facing slopes, twilight had already come, although Manuel still flew in the last rays of sunlight, some two thousand feet over the lower terrain.

He was not sure why or how he knew, but all at once, he sensed the man with the rifle was aiming at the other man. How could he possibly warn the second man quickly enough to move? Or could he distract the shooter? What should he do? Perhaps he subconsciously screamed a telepathic warning in that last tense instant. Still, he almost missed a wing beat when the second man suddenly shifted, transforming into a raven and flying clear of the bullet that sped his way.

Manuel then could not resist flying close to the other bird, but he knew no way to let the raven know the red-tailed hawk passing him was also a shape shifter. He could hardly believe there were really two of them. Had he seen true or was it all an illusion? He had no way to tell. After circling the raven, he angled away and continued toward home, dropping to the ground to shift back to his normal form before he got too close to the village where he lived.

Even as he settled in his bed for the night, the excitement of the strange encounter spun through his mind. At twenty-eight, he was an oddity among his people to be unmarried still. Something in him had shied away from such a close connection with anyone, a level of intimacy, which in time might reveal his secret and make him a pariah. How could he wish such a thing on an unsuspecting woman if he married? What about their children?

Now untold possibilities opened before him. What if there were others like him? If not many at least some who had this peculiar gift? What if he could find and join their community? His parents would not be around forever and once they were gone, he would be very alone. Hope and fear warred within him as he struggled to fall asleep.

Although he’d prefer to return and try to find the unusual raven, he had to go back to work. Tomorrow. The first thing he had to do was report to the sergeant in charge of this district. He felt pretty sure he wasn’t in trouble, but he always worried if the boss called him in. Such notice seldom turned out well. What if they sent him off to another area far away? What would his parents do? Tangled thoughts buzzed through his brain, making sleep hard to find. When he did drift off, it was to dream of flying.