After discovering her village destroyed, C’hiim’s dark destiny leads her to the forest of the Steeyaha—one of the supernatural beings White people will later name “Stick Indians.” The Steeyaha recognizes her as a Whakla—“neither man nor woman.” For a price, C’hiim can claim the Power she needs to confront the War Leader who exterminated her people. Will the War Leader see her as an avenging avatar of his Goddess—or a fool who has returned to die? (An adults only erotic and mythic story of Futanari/Two-Spirit revenge, containing a sexual supernatural exchange of power, Shamanic control, and extreme rough domination.)

Excerpt:

The Steeyaha roughly touched her, or perhaps it was just the texture of its flesh that felt rough. Its eyes were large and were curious, rather than unkind. “Whakla,” it concluded, sounding very satisfied. “Neither man nor woman.”

“I know what it means,” C’hiim said coldly.

“I know even more what it means, child of The People.” It sat on a broken branch and twirled its shadowed hair with its fingers. “True Whakalas among your people are rare. I haven’t seen one like you since I was a child myself, when the world was young and the sun still shone without embarrassment.” The Steeyaha leaned closer and smelled faintly of cedar and earth. “Show me,” it whispered, “and I will show you more than you know.”

Empty, C’hiim stood, towering over the Steeyaha just as she towered over the other women of her village—as she used to tower over the women of her village. Gracefully, numbly, she stripped away her clothing, the cool night air gently caressing her exposed flesh. Her body responded on its own to the cedar scented breeze. Her nipples hardened, as did her dick.

“I can teach you much,” the Steeyaha said, examining her with sharp inquisitive fingers. “The question is if you have heart enough to learn. Tonight you choose, child of The People. Be broken as that piece of clay you hold or grasp Power. The Steeyaha offer but once.”

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