Healing Across Time

"Any particular reason?" Claire was glad she'd packed her Wellingtons and wet weather gear.

"Running Wolf told me there might be a way to help the people we contacted during the workshop - to allow them to stay together then as well as now."

Claire opened her mouth to ask more questions, but decided it was best to let him tell her his plans in his own way.

"You do want to help them, don't you?"

"Yes, more than anything."

"Good, because it is your gift which will give them that chance."

"My gift?"

"Your maidenhead."

"My maidenhead," she repeated dully, "so tonight won't be our first night together."

"Not tonight, I'm afraid, my love, but after tomorrow, I can promise you I'll make love to you every morning and night for the rest of our time together."

"No afternoons?"

"Afternoons as well if you really want me to!" Patrick grinned.

They stopped overnight at a small hotel on the outskirts of Newquay. Claire was so tired, she did not protest when he booked them in to two separate rooms and left her to sleep alone. She woke to bright sunshine with birds singing in the garden. She was up and dressed when Patrick knocked on her door to take her down to breakfast in the small dining room. Before long, they were back on the road again. This time they were part of a winding convoy of holiday makers trying to find their destination or making their first foray to the many beaches and tiny coves along the northern coast of Cornwall.

"Not long now," Patrick announced as they drew into the large car park at Holywell Bay. "Just bring with you what you need for the next twenty-four hours. The cave is only accessible at low tide, so once we're there, we won't be able to get out for a while."

Claire bit her lip. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of being cut off from humanity for such a long time, but she'd given her word, so she had to go through with it.

"Don't look so worried." Patrick flashed her a grin as he loaded a heavy rucksack onto his back. "My brothers and I used to camp here when we were boys. It's an amazing place. I'm not about to let any harm come to you – I promise."

Claire finished packing her backpack and took off her shoes and socks. There was something quite soothing about walking through the dunes and onto the long stretch of sand. The waves were crashing onto the shore, but she could see the tide was going out quite fast, uncovering large rockpools and tiny streams making their way to the ocean.

After nearly an hour, they reached the furthest end of the beach.

"The cave next door is the one with the freshwater well in it," Patrick told her. The colours on the steps are amazing. I'll show you in a while, but I want to get set up in our cave first."

He led the way amongst the rocks, clambering over ragged barnacles and wading through deep pools which wet the bottoms of Claire's rolled up trousers.

"It's through here," he called, switching on an electric torch to illuminate a dark hole at the furthest point of the cave. "It's bigger than you think, so don't worry." Taking off his rucksack he disappeared into the hole, pulling his belongings after him. Claire followed suit, finding herself inside a large, domed cave high above the watermark. A firepit had been built at one side of the cave with a large stack of wood and a bag of coal arranged beside it.

"Gordon set it up for us," Patrick explained. "I emailed him from Chicago a couple of weeks ago and called in some favours."

"Didn't he want to know why you wanted to sleep in the cave?"

"I expect so," Patrick grinned, "but when I rang him to make sure everything had been done, his baby daughter was screaming, so he wasn't able to ask too many awkward questions. We'll meet them before we go back, so we can explain things then."

"You think he'd understand any of it?"

"We don't have to tell him everything, just that we wanted to be on our own for a while."

Patrick busied himself unpacking the contents of his rucksack, while Claire held the torch for him. There was a small amount of light from a hole in the side wall near to the firepit, but Patrick was working in the opposite end of the cave. There were oil lamps set in crevices all around the cave and Patrick went round and lit several of them. Their light made the cave seem smaller and friendlier. For the first time, Claire was able to relax and feel more at ease.

"Are you warm enough?"

Claire nodded. The cave did not have the usual dampness from water constantly running down walls. It was dry and the sand underfoot was surprisingly warm to her bare feet.

"I'll light the fire soon, but I want to have everything prepared first." He brought out some carrymats and asked Claire to cover them with the blankets she had brought. He smiled when he saw the cushions she pulled out of her backpack, but said nothing as she arranged them as pillows and made everything comfortable.

Patrick brushed the sand off a large rock and proceeded to lay out a series of jars, together with antiseptic wipes and a bag of cotton wool. Then he brought out a series of paper bags filled with dried herbs, each bag labelled with strange writing.

"Patrick, what exactly are you planning?" Claire couldn't hide her unease any longer. As much as she loved him, the strange location and various accoutrements were starting to make her very apprehensive. It was as if he were planning some major operation on her, rather than their first night together. Other couples managed their joining quite happily in cars or on their parent's couch. She doubted any of them thought of the need for herbs or antiseptic wipes amongst their writhing passion.

He came and sat beside her, pulling her into the space between his knees and wrapping his arms around her. He sat rocking her for several, long moment, his lips brushing her hair as he crooned a soft lullaby.

"I know it seems really strange, love, but this is my first time as well as yours."

"You mean you've never..."

"No, I didn't mean I'd never been with a woman." He kissed her cheek. "I'll have to tell you about Martha Kate one of these days; she's a very special lady. What I meant was my first time as a shaman.

"I've known Running Bear for over three years now. He sent me to one of his colleagues who lived in Chicago – a guy called Russell Silvertrees. I studied with him last time I was in the States – about eighteen months ago. He warned me something was going to happen while I was back in the UK. I was working so hard at LandRover I completely forgot about it until it happened. He even described you to me. That's why I was so bowled over when I met you. I couldn't believe everything he told me had come true.

"I was so angry when they sent me back to Chicago. I asked my boss to find someone else, told him I had a family crisis to attend to, but he said there was no-one else. Either I went or I resigned. I can't tell you how close I came to handing in my notice. I was going to write it the night I left you, but I fell asleep when I got home. In my dream I saw Running Bear. He was watering a willow tree. He said the willow tree was growing, but it needed more time before it could be used to make a basket. When I woke up, I realised I need more time. What happened to us was so much bigger than just the two of us becoming a couple. I needed Running Bear's advice, so I went to Chicago and asked him.

"He taught me how to make all the salves in the jars and took me on trips to collect the herbs I'd need for the ritual. He made the wine, too." Patrick held up a bottle for Claire to see. "He said it was a special vintage and would help us 'move the boundaries'."

Claire nestled herself against his chest. "I'm not sure I want to move any boundaries. I just want to be close to you."

Patrick stroked her cheek and kissed her. "It will be alright, love, I know it will. Now we're together, anything is possible." He held her close, running his fingers down her neck and over the soft folds of her clothes. She could hear his heart beating through the thin material of his t-shirt. She turned her head to allow her lips to rest against the bare skin exposed by the open neck of the t-shirt, but he pulled her gently away.

"Let me make the fire, then we can begin without any interruptions."

Claire watched as he scrunched up pages of old newspapers and laid them in the bottom of the firepit, covering them with increasingly large sticks of wood. When it was blazing away he added lumps of coal; a bright warmth filled the cave.

Patrick scattered herbs over the top of the coals and strange scents wafted towards them. He opened the bottle of wine and poured equal amounts into two sturdy glasses. He handed one to Claire and raised the other as a toast.

"To us and to all our other selves!"

Claire touched her glass to his and took a first, tentative sip. The wine was a deep, rich red, full bodied with herbs and spices. She felt each sip warming her mouth, her throat and finally her stomach. Its effects did not stop there as she noticed a tingling in her legs and arms until she was too warm and had to remove her jumper.

Patrick took her glass, "Here, let me help you." Before she had time to think, he had stripped off all her clothes and she was sitting on the rugs wearing only the white puka shell necklace he sent her as a gift when he first left for the States.

Patrick's face beamed as he handed her back her wine. "I have something else for you," he said, reaching into a pocket in his trousers. He drew out a tiny silver anklet and toe ring set with polished abalone shell. He fastened it around her right ankle, then drew her foot onto his knee and carefully brushed each toe, then sucked each one before slipping the ring onto her second toe.

"You taste even better than I remember."

Claire shivered, then took another sip of wine. She knew her face was burning, not just from the wine, but from a deep seated longing for his touch.

"What about you? Don't tell me you're going to stay fully clothed through all this?"

Patrick laughed. "Not this time, love." Claire took another drink of wine, then slid over to him, her hands dancing over his body as she found entrances to his bare skin. His t-shirt was soon removed, but she took the time to become acquainted with every bone and muscle in his upper torso.

Everywhere her fingers touched, her mouth followed, leaving silvery trails across his skin as she kissed and licked, sampling his taste with her tongue and the firmness of his muscles with her teeth.

"Quite the little savage," Patrick murmured, his hands tangling in her hair as she drew ever closer to the waistband of his trousers and the growing bulge trying to escape the confines of his clothes.

"Mmmm," Claire agreed, rubbing her cheek across his lap before capturing his hardness with her hand. She undid his leather belt, then released the top button before slowly drawing down the zipper with her teeth. She wanted to drown her senses with his scent. She pushed him backwards as she drew off his trousers and underpants, watching with eager eyes as his manhood sprang free. Her hands enclosed him, fingers stroking the soft hardness, reaching downwards to tangle in his public hair then follow to the smoothness of his heavy sac.

She inhaled deeply, then bent her head to engulf him inside her mouth, her tongue exploring the swollen head, the foreskin curling back to expose the shining tip. As she dove deeper, she felt his hands curling and uncurling on her head and deep moans came unbidden from his throat. As his tip brushed the depths of her throat, she knew she needed to take him further inside herself, to allow him where no one had gone before. She made herself relax and drew him deeper into her throat as if swallowing him, her throat muscles massaging the head until he could take no more and he erupted inside her, like a living snake spasming inside her mouth as she swallowed his life force. She heard him groan and cry out, then, as he grew limp and slid from her mouth, she curled herself into his waiting arms, holding him tightly as his body shuddered from the aftershocks of his sudden orgasm.

"How did you do that?" he whispered, his body languid in the after effects of her gift.

"I don't know. I only wanted to know you better."

He kissed the top of her head. "I think you just did."

They lay for a while listening to the hiss and crackle of the fire, the small flames throwing giant shadows on the ceiling. Claire thought she saw the shadow of a hawk flying above them. She pointed towards it, but the shape soon blurred, merging with others.

Patrick sat up and stoked the fire, adding more herbs onto the hot coals.

"Now, young miss," he growled softly, rolling her further onto the rugs, "it's your turn. You're not going to distract me this time!"

Claire giggled, looking up at him as he towered over her, his long hair hanging down and brushing against her skin as he bent his head to kiss her soundly. His large hands stroked the inside of her arms, teasing all her sensitive places until she squirmed and writhed and begged for mercy, but he merely laughed. Then he placed his hands flat around her breasts, the centre of each palm circling on her tender nipples as they hardened and grew to meet him. When he was satisfied with their length, he rolled them between his thumb and forefinger, until her breath was ragged and she arched her back to draw him downwards to stoke the fire beginning to burn deep within her.

He stroked the velvet smoothness of her stomach as his tongue played with her nipples, licking and sucking them hard into his mouth. She was beyond words, mewling and moaning at his touch as he took her further along her journey.

Now his fingers were on her thighs, light, tender strokes upwards as his lips nuzzled their way downwards, over her mound, his tongue exploring her folds, forcing their way ever deeper inside her until they came to her darkest cave.

He emerged for a moment, licking his lips as he sat up in front of her.

"Claire, love," he stroked her cheek until she was able to focus on his words. "Whatever I do to you next would bring you pain before pleasure. This is your threshold, your point of no return. Once your hymen is breached there is no returning to your previous state."

She nodded, her eyes blinking against the brightness of the firelight. Inside her head a voice was screaming at him to stop talking to her, to return to whatever it was he was doing before, to thrust himself inside her until she could explode into a million pieces like a rainbow breaching the space between heaven and earth.

"You told me, yesterday, in the car you were willing to offer your maidenhead to help the woman and priest in that other life. Are you still willing to help them? If you don't want to do this, you must tell me and I'll enter you and we'll make love as any couple would. If you are willing to go through with it, then you'll feel a sharp pain as I sever your hymen and I'll use the blood of your maidenhead to build a bridge between us and them. Then I'll enter you and we shall see what the Gods do with your gift."

Claire took several deep breaths as she fought to regain control of her body. She thought back to the woman in the other cave. She saw again the pain in the priest's face when he knew he'd lost her. She felt her isolation amongst her own people. If there was any chance of healing such loss....

"Do it," she grunted, closing her eyes and opening her legs as far as she could.

Patrick pushed back the hair from her forehead and kissed her. "I love you, Wahosi."

He lit four large candles from the fire, placing them in holders set at North, South, East and West. He poured yellow water into a large shell, then used his rattle to shake the boundaries of the circle, all the time his voice rising and falling in a wordless chant which echoed off the walls of the cave and reverberated all around them.

Far from concerning her, Claire felt herself wrapped in a protective bubble, the sounds lapping against her skin, soothing her.

As the chant died down, she felt his fingers, tongue and lips return to her womanhood, blowing on her outer lips as the blood rushed through them, his fingers brushing them and curling them back to expose her maidenhead. Dipping some cotton wool in the yellow water, he inserted first one, then two fingers inside her, stretching her outwards.

When she felt she was in danger of splitting in two, he sliced his nail against the thin membrane and cut down to the bottom, holding cotton wool to the edges to catch the drops of blood.

Claire moaned as she felt the sharpness of the liquid against her sensitive skin. Patrick began his chant again as he threw the sodden piece of cotton wool onto the coals and watched the flames curl around it. Then he positioned himself over her, gently rubbing himself up and down her slit until she was writhing against him and he was well coated in her juices.

Slowly he edged himself against her entrance, holding himself there until her hips arched and her hands reached down to guide him inwards.

"Please, Patrick, please, I need you," she moaned.

Patrick leaned down and kissed her eyes, then her mouth and then her breasts. "I'm yours, my love, all yours and you shall have me," and he thrust inside her, making her gasp and pant with the size of him, filling her, making her feel whole for the first time in her life.

There were no more words as he began the age-old rhythm of thrust and withdraw, each cycle of movement taking him deeper inside her until there was no more space, no more boundaries, no self, no time, no memories, just an ever building fire of sensation which grew and grew until the flames consumed them both and they lay, spent, in a tangled heap of arms and legs.

Their bodies shone with a film of sweat as Patrick finally slid off Claire and rolled her into the shelter of his arms. They lay for several minutes, caressing each other, murmuring reassurances and endearments as their bodies recovered from the passionate exertions of the previous hour.

"Where did you go, my dearest one?" Patrick asked her eventually, lazily stroking her arm and the side of her breast with his fingers. "What did you see when the moment came?"

Claire rubbed her cheek against his chest, collecting her thoughts. He was right, she had been somewhere else. She hadn't realised until he asked her the question.

"It was a different cave, colder, darker. There was a breeze blowing from somewhere and the candles kept guttering. In my mind, I looked up into your face, but it was a different face, older, darker, but the eyes were yours. When I touched him, his skin was smoother, although his beard was longer, it tickled my neck. As he climaxed, he kept calling my name – Wahosi, Wahosi, and his spasms pushed me over the edge of the abyss. Everything went salmon pink, as if the sun had just set and the sky was filled with bright colours. There was a garden filled with the most wonderful roses, all salmon pink and smelling so heavenly...."

Patrick hugged her to him. "It was his garden. He took her back to his garden where he could keep her safe and they would always be together."

"I don't understand..."

Patrick rocked her gently, kissing her with soft, light kisses until every part of her face was covered by his touch. "I don't think we're meant to understand, love. It's enough to know we brought them back together, enabled them to join as we joined, gave them back time they should have had when we were torn away from them before."

Claire nodded against him. Part of her was still very confused, but she felt sated and content, happy to leave explanations until they returned to the real world outside the cave. She closed her eyes, sliding effortlessly into sleep.

Her dreams were once more of the Native American village and the camp fires amongst the tepees. This time, the medicine woman was in the midst of her people. At her side was the warrior priest with the amber eyes. He wore the snake charm around his neck, its diamond eye sparkling in the firelight and in his hand he carried a single, salmon pink rose.