Chapter 10

Finally down under.

Iona’s unscheduled lay-over in Dili caused her little grief. Most of the time she visited museums, temples and churches in-between sunbathing. While lounging on the beaches she used her time effectively by mugging up on Native art and its religious connections to Australian aboriginal, spiritual art. At other times she enjoyed the hospitality of the Australian air-force facilities where she was immensely pleased with their helpfulness and made sure she tipped the fitters generously for the excellent repairs. Indeed the damage repairs were of such high quality nobody would have realised the skin had been repaired unless they checked it over with a professional eye. Eventually the new cockpit canopy arrived and within a few days, she was ready and fit to fly. Amidst a flurry of well wishing, she took off in the mid-morning into a clear blue sky.

‘Hello, Darwin and Aussie! Here comes Iona!’ She giggled to herself. ‘Let’s just see what ‘The dream times’ is all about.’

She settled comfortably into her seat and set her speed for two hundred knots. This would give her a nice comfortable flight of about two hours and she radioed Darwin to advise of her ETA. Being in no particular hurry, she settled down to five hundred feet and watched the wakes of various ships, mostly fishing craft, busy on the ocean below. Then the smaller craft petered out and the ocean surface became empty.

She was nibbling on a ‘Snicker’ bar when a distress flare caught her attention. It ascended to a height level with her port wing then erupted as it floated back to earth.

‘Damn.’ She muttered under her breath. ‘I suppose I’d better go and see. Probably more refugees trying to get into Aus.’

She soon spotted an overloaded boat lying stopped and low in the water so she made several low passes. The occupants didn’t seem in very good shape so she relayed a mayday and advised an Australian patrol ship about the situation. She passed what information she could then resumed her course for Darwin.

Early afternoon found her entered through immigration and customs followed by some intensive interrogation about her experiences in Bali and subsequent flights to Timor and Australia.

Her telepathy told her that the Australian authorities suspected she might be drug-running because of the issues leaving Bali but their tests found no trace because she was truly clean. Iona’s telepathic brain reacted very unfavourably to drugs and she had avoided psychosomatic drugs all her life.

Having cleared the border formalities, Iona was at long last free to commence her searches. As a disguise for her searches, she made pretence of following all the usual tourist activities and her first step was to hire a four-by-four to get some experience of the ‘outback’. With experience born of years of travel, she equipped herself appropriately and was soon heading to the Queensland Arnhemland rainforest. Several days of rugged driving followed by a day’s trekking through some of the remotest forests of northern Queensland eventually brought her to a large cave in a deep, hidden gorge well off the beaten track. At the base of the cliff a clear freshwater spring drained into a creek further down the heavily wooded valley. It was an ideal camp site.

It was perfect location because an intense telepathic scan proved that there were no sentient beings for several tens of miles. Happy with her discovery, she decided to make camp.

Her needs were simple. A rugged weatherproof sleeping bag, a couple of small cooking pans, a single tin plate and a couple of knives. Her only nod to modernity was a flip-top lighter, a torch and her GPS mobile phone.

Having established her isolation she next explored the area and was excited to discover some aboriginal paintings well-hidden and protected from the weather in another cleft of the rock separated from the cave by a large buttress hidden behind dense vegetation. The hidden cave paintings confirmed that the site, although remote and seemingly un-trespassed, obviously had some spiritual significance to some local aboriginal persons or tribe because the paintings showed signs of occasional maintenance and attention even though it was obviously rarely visited.

Previous preparatory researches in the Dili museum informed Iona that although these paintings were mostly animalistic, the underlying theme was deeply associated with the movements of the heavens. She recognised several of the Aboriginal animal associations with the constellations.

This pleased her immensely. She reasoned that the stellar movements were closely associated with time and that implied connections to ‘The dream times’, though she had not had the time in Dili to determine the precise ‘folk-lore and or religious Aboriginal connections
This being Northern Queensland, she reasoned that it might be associated with the earliest dream times of the aborigines because the peninsular was the closest and easiest land and sea bridge that enabled the stone-age arrival of the aboriginal peoples some several tens of thousands of years ago.

Having discovered the paintings, she set about bivouacking for the night and chose a dry spot well back under deep overhang where any smoke from her fire would not harm any cave paintings. Then she prepared a rudimentary ‘bush-bower’ where she could sleep with little likelihood of any unwanted night guests invading her bed. Finally she closed the insect net that framed her sleeping bag and fell asleep.

The dawn break woke her, or more correctly, the Australian equivalent of the dawn chorus. Having remembered where she was, she made a brief telepathic scan to ascertain her chosen isolation then she lay back for long moments savouring bird calls and other sounds she had only ever heard on nature documentaries. Eventually a call of nature forced her out of her comfortable bed and she clambered out naked to attend it. A short dip in the tiny brook completed her ablutions and she finally killed a small furry denizen with a telepathic punch prior to skinning it, cooking it and eating it.

Thus prepared for the day she returned to the cave paintings and settled down in front of them to enter a trance in the hope of somehow making some sort of connection. She had no idea what to do or how to begin.

Her efforts proved patchy. Firstly, she had difficulty entering a trance because the uncertainty interrupted her concentration. Secondly the aura around the site seemed unsettled and she felt a distinct sense of negativity surrounding her actually being there, in what was obviously a very private location, resembling a family tomb.

There did not seem to be any gateways or portals to any spirit world or at least none that seemed prepared to open for her. Her usual techniques that had proven to work on many previous occasions, had always managed to prise open some sort of ethereal openings in what had usually presented as some sort of dark obsidian mass. The mass she had always come to think of as the barrier between the living world and whatever lay beyond.

This time as she sat in a lotus position of intentional respect, the expected blackness simply refused to settle. Instead, it seemed to somehow sweep in bands of weak insipid colours rather like the Aurora Borealis except that instead of sweeping in huge swathes across the sky, the colour spans seemed to extend no further than her outstretched fingers whilst refusing to respond to her beseechments and just dancing tantalisingly close as though taunting her to somehow make the connection she thought they might be offering.

This experience was nothing like any ‘crossing’ she had made before and she eventually slumped exhausted as her trance went black and she lost all awareness spiritual or carnal. She awoke to find the sun setting and a wild dingo sniffing at the remains of her breakfast.
She wasn’t sure if the shiver that pervaded her body was the cool of the evening or fear from the proximity of the dingo. As she raised her head from the sand carefully so as not to frighten the animal, she watched it tense and curl it’s lip.

She remained poised on her elbow as further study of the animal confirmed it was a female and it looked as though it was suckling pups. On noticing the ribs showing through its fur she decided to try a telepathic scan.

She had often scanned animal’s brains and found almost inevitably that what might be construed as thought or sentience usually concerned, hunger, danger or reproduction.

‘Like many homo-sapiens’, she grinned to herself ruefully, as she determined bitch was extremely hungry. Iona watched as it finally finished crunching the carcass before starting to lick it’s rear paw. Only then, did Iona spot the wound to its heel. The cut looked about three or four days old and that to Iona explained why the animal was only beginning to appear malnourished. She tried talking softly.

“Hungry, are you girl?”

The dingo lowered its head nervously as it stood to watch her. Iona could see clearly, that the animal was in no fit state to attack her for the rear leg was obviously too damaged to enable an attacking leap. Instead, the animal limped back a couple of paces and settled again on the sand near the little brook. Iona stayed still and watched as it shuffled painfully forward and took a drink from the clear water. Still Iona stayed back but she brought herself to a sitting position so that both hands were free. Her second scan of the dingo’s brain only confirmed uncertainty and a little fear. She spoke again softly.

“So what now Mrs Dingo? Are we just going to sit all night looking at each other?”

The dingo just turned towards the direction of her voice and did not move while attending to the wounded leg again. Iona weighed up what to do and decided to cautiously move away then kill another creature for her pot.

‘Perhaps she might kill a bigger animal’ she thought, ‘and share it with the bitch.’ After all hunting for Iona was the easiest task she faced. She simply had to locate an animal by telepathy, then kill it with a single, clean, telepathic blast.

She decided to search further afield and perhaps find a larger animal like a wallaby or even a kangaroo, though she did not hold out hopes of a ‘roo’ in the Queensland tropical rainforest. Cautiously, she rose slowly to her feet and backed away as the dingo tensed and snarled nervously again.

It got clumsily to its feet and took what was obviously a defensive stance as Iona steadily retreated while still facing it until she was at the edge of the little clearing, then she turned and walked away in search of something edible.

She had been walking silently and scanning telepathically when her mind detected a sense of animalistic tension amongst some dense trees and shrubs to her left. She froze and waited for several seconds before a soft noise like a very low thrumming resumed its eruptions within the bushes. Iona had no idea what animal it was but she knew that Australia had no large dangerous animals except crocodiles and she was a long way from the water.

Suddenly the bushes shook violently and two huge Cassowaries exploded from the bushes in a frenzied fight. Iona hesitated before realising they had no interest in her for it was two cock birds obviously in some sort of contest, ‘probably for females’ or territory, Iona concluded.

She slowly withdrew out of obvious site and watched with a genuine interest to see if the loser would be too wounded to survive. She could not believe how furious and lethal the birds were, nor how vicious their spurs were. She was glad she was behind the tree.
Finally the fight was over, and as she expected; the loser lay fatally hurt beside a thick bush. It was quite obviously dying for its throat had been torn open and its head almost severed. Iona stepped forward after checking that the victor had left to claim his prize then she checked over the loser. It died even as she turned its head over to inspect the wound. Iona had found her food for the next few days so she flung the still twitching carcass over her shoulder and returned to her camp.

The dingo was still snoozing in the shade of the rocks but it sat up to look speculatively at Iona as she approached. It’s nose twitched appreciatively as it struggled to its feet. Iona made it abundantly apparent that the dingo was not going to take her prize. As it approached with its lips curled and snarling softly in its endeavours to gain dominance, but Iona released a telepathic punch that caused the animal to yelp in fear and fall over. She followed up her punch with a harsh low curse to reinforce her intentions.

The dingo would only get what she offered. While the dingo lay disabled she checked over the wounded leg and determined that no bones seemed to be broken, it was just a deep cut. She washed the leg then left the animal in peace while she plucked the Cassowary then lit a fire.
It was obvious that her cooking pan would only take small pieces at a time so she had to find a way to keep the dingo away from her kill. The dark fissure deeper under the rock where the spring emerged, seemed to offer the best opportunity for it was cooler. After fashioning a branch into a hook, she jammed it in a cleft high up the rock and hung the bird out of reach. She hoped to get a couple of days food off the carcass before it became inedible. This done she cooked a considerable portion and offered the dingo a satisfactory portion of the offal, the intestines, lungs and heart. The dingo limped forward and sniffed the offering before snatching it up and devouring it ravenously. It was back hoping for more before Iona had finished her first cut. She threw it a couple of tasty morsels then finished the remains of what she had cooked. It seemed she had enough food for two to three days provided it didn’t go off.

The dog seemed to realise it was getting no more that day so it limped into the shade of the rock while Iona returned to the cave drawings. This time she stared at the animals that she knew to be representations of the constellations and concentrated on their import. Finally she had her first inkling of meaning when the ‘Southern Cross constellation ascended slowly above the hills in the east and she recognised the animalistic representation on the wall. The layout of the wall images exactly replicated each constellation as it arose in succession over a distinct cleft in the distant hills. Some of the animals related to the constellations she recognised, others she didn’t. Her knowledge of aboriginal folk-lore was patchy.

Suddenly, in a flash of inspiration, realised that the paintings on the wall, the stars in the sky and the hills being the earth, combined to provide a guide to identity, orientation, location and stability for any dream traveller who chose to visit that location.

Having confirmed that the campsite was obviously some sort of holy location associated with ‘dream-travel,’ she briefly wondered what force or entity had somehow guided her to it. Finding no answer to that question, she put those thoughts aside and savoured a visceral thrill that permeated her entire being as she sensed she had at least completed the first step towards the first barrier.

Armed with the insight concerning the stars, paintings and the earth, she made herself comfortable and prepared to start her first endeavour into either the dream time or the dream place.

She knew not whether the old familiar landmarks of her previous sojourns with the old Native American seer ‘He That Sees’, would appear to guide her or whether the markers would be completely different. She knew already from her first brief attempt that black was not the dominant colour of ‘the wall’. The shimmering shades of her internalised ‘Aurora Telepathia’ had already disavowed her of those expectations as she settled into her familiar ‘lotus’ position.

In a short time she was entranced and seemingly flying along illuminated astral lay-lines towards- she knew not what. This weird experience soon abated and she found herself motionless in a limbo of half-light but in complete silence.

‘I’d better not talk or ask questions’, she told herself as the oppressive silence persisted. She was disappointed that nothing more seemed to come of her arrival as she waited patiently for any signs or action. Eventually she concluded nothing more was to be gained so she elected to return whence she’d come. It was dusk when she emerged from her trance but the incongruous time shift did not surprise her on return; however the pair of pups suckling at the dingo’s tits did.

Iona frowned as she considered the idea of ‘two-more-mouths-to-feed’ but decided that the feeding would not be her problem. All she had to do was hunt for more food and cook her own. The dingo could eat its portions raw. To this end, she cut some meat off the cassowary carcass threw some to the dingo bitch and proceeded to cook her own. As the sun set, she burrowed into her sleeping bag after checking for critters and in its cosy embrace, she contemplated her first forays into dream time.

Progress had been slow but she had expected that. She had no aboriginal guide so it had to be small steps slowly. She was not seeking anybody on ‘the-other-side’ this time so there was no urgency; she was simply exploring other methods and avenues of telepathy. Though she was not sure of her motives, the lack of direction and purpose served to set her at ease. She fell into a deep sleep and was only awoken by the dingo bitch’s frenzied growling and barking.

Grabbing her torch, she illuminated the bitch snarling and barking furiously at a python trying to steal the cassowary carcass. Angry at the attempted theft, she released a telepathic blast and stunned the invader before grabbing a large rock and crushing the unconscious python’s scull. A brief check on the hanging cassowary carcass revealed all was well so she turned to the dingo bitch that stood tensely expectant.

“Thanks for the warning lady, go on girl, you can have it. Put some flesh on your bones.

So saying, she grabbed the snake and dragged it towards the dingo that immediately realised Iona’s intention. It started ripping ravenously into the snake while Iona returned to her sleeping bag.

When the dawn awoke her, she grinned to herself when she saw the dingo bitch and both cubs fast asleep with the half-eaten snake jammed between the bitch and the cliff base. Obviously she was protecting her precious find. It woke eventually to the smell of Iona’s cooking and it whined hopefully.

“Don’t be greedy,” Iona scolded the bitch affectionately.

The dingo’s tail wagged a couple of times and it didn’t flinch when Iona stepped past it to take a wash in the brook. Instead she continued licking her cubs while her eyes followed the naked Iona to the brook.

This time, having established by then, that the tiny brook was too small to harbour any serious dangers, she slipped cautiously into the little pool and indulged herself with a hurried bath, the water, having just emerged from the spring was still cold. Iona decided that in future, she would bathe in the evenings when the sun had warmed the rocks and the water might be a bit warmed if she diverted it over the extensive flat rock that lay beside the brook.

With a belly full of cassowary she set about creating a simple spillway and dam to divert the water across the flat rock when evening came. Satisfied with her efforts and still savouring her nudity, she chose to try another attempt at ‘dream-journeying’ in the mid-afternoon. This time she was pleased to pass beyond the half-illuminated limbo and intrigued to see what seemed to be vague figures dancing in some sort of shimmering aura. Her efforts to reach the figures failed and she concluded ruefully that either she was not yet ready to join with them, or they were not yet prepared to accept or acknowledge her.

Disappointed with her failure and still yet happy to have progressed a bit further, she emerged from her trance and cooked some more of the cassowary. Her nose told her there was only another day’s food and then the remains would be inedible. Tomorrow she would eat her last meal then go hunting again.

After filling her belly she set about diverting the brook to spill over the sunlit rock that was too hot to sit on. Once she had the system set up correctly, she slid gratefully into the tepid pool. Where the water spilled off the rock into the pool, it was actually quite warm and she savoured the sheer luxury of thoroughly washing her hair.

As the delightfully warm water splashed off the rock, the dingo bitch let out a low growl that alerted Iona to danger. Being naked in a brook was certainly not the best position for a transsexual with breasts but while her telepathic scan had ascertained a human approaching, she had not yet determined where that human was. Even searching through the visitor’s eyes only told Iona that the individual was picking her way through some dense vegetation. She realised it might not be safe to emerge from the pool naked until she had determined the individuals identity and nature, Iona crouched down with only her head exposed above the brook. Under the shelf of rock, the rivulet of warm water splashing onto her pure white hair resembled a splash of crystal-clear water on a smooth pale rock and this served to camouflage Iona’s exposed head.

Eventually her telepathic scan alerted Iona that the approaching threat was just a single aborigine. More importantly, Iona was mildly intrigued to learn that the individual was female.

‘Now that’s unusual’, Iona told herself ‘usually it was the men who went ‘walkabout’ and yet here was a young woman in her mid-teens, definitely alone.

Iona decided to ‘wait-and-see’ from her hidden position.

Eventually, the girl-woman emerged from the trees and hesitated as she noticed the makings of Iona’s camp. Then she froze as she faced the dingo bitch that was obviously unhappy with the girl’s approach. Iona could read the fear in the girl’s mind as she stood not daring to antagonise the animal. As the impasse continued, Iona decided to scan the girl’s intentions and she quickly discerned that the girl was the only remaining pureblood child of the clan that held this site sacred.

She had come simply to check that the site was in order but the evidence of some sort of seemingly white-man occupancy was distressing her. Iona could discern that the girl was now frightened on two counts, the Dingo bitch with cubs and the anticipated presence of one or more white Australians. The girl had simply wanted to inspect and check the hidden rock paintings on the other side of the buttress but now she was afraid on both counts.

She was a girl alone in a remote place with other unknown people nearby whilst her more immediate danger was the possibility of her annoying the growling dingo. Furthermore she did not want to inadvertently reveal the shrine to whomsoever had made camp under the cliff.
Having learned enough of the young woman and her dilemma, Iona decided to send a telepathic message to the girl who was petrified of the dingo.

‘She won’t harm you. Just go past her and check your tribal shrine.’

The young woman’s face contorted in terror as she struggled to suppress the shriek that was erupting in her throat. Iona knew she had to intervene quickly with a second message.

‘You are in NO danger. Just walk past the dingo and go to your shrine. No harm will befall you.’

The girl was now desperately searching for the manifestation of some spirit or ‘bunyip’ but seeing none, she stepped tentatively to bypass the dingo. Iona gave her more encouragement.

‘Go on, she won’t bite you. Check your shrine then return here to me. NO harm will come to you.’

Seeing that the dingo had not moved, the young woman reasoned that whatever spirit was reaching out to her did not intend harm. Sprits had no reasons to lie, they were all powerful. Realising this, she took the invisible spirit voice at its word and carefully eased past the dingo. Once past the animal, the girl paused uncertainly in front of the rocky buttress, scanned the area for she knew not what, then clutched her tucker bag tightly as she located the hidden cleft and slipped easily behind the vegetation to disappear from sight. Iona took the opportunity to emerge from the little pool and slip on her knickers.

Her telepathy told her that the girl, now deeming herself safe from prying eyes; had stripped off her clothes then painted herself in white ash-paste from her ‘tucker-bag’. Next she commenced a ritualistic address to her tribal fore-fathers. Telepathy further told Iona that the girl’s intentions were the same as those of other tribal native peoples like ‘He-that-sees’. All that differed was the ‘nodding-and-bobbing’. To Iona’s slight disappointment, the girl did not seem to be entering into a dream time, leastways, not as Iona had deemed it to be. All she seemed to be doing was offering up apologies to the fore-bearers for the state of the clan and the lack of children to take the clan forward. Iona could read the immense disappointment and sense of loss in the girl’s heart and mind.

As always, emotions intensified with telepathy and Iona felt an overwhelming sadness for the girl. While the girl continued lamenting the state of her clan, Iona re-lit the camp-fire and cooked the last edible vestiges of the Cassowary. The smell of cooking meat suddenly alerted the girl to the second danger of the unknown camper or campers and she fell silent as she crawled to the covered entrance of the secret cleft in the buttress. Lying flat on her belly she peered out from behind the vegetation. On spotting what was obviously a small white girl wearing only skimpy panties and attending to the re-lit campfire, the aboriginal girl stretched further to try and make sure nobody else was about.

Following her every move by telepathy, Iona waited until the girl was almost totally emerged from the vegetation then she just turned quickly to reach for some more firewood. This action enabled Iona to stare directly into the girl’s face. The aboriginal girl froze more with uncertainty than fear until her sense of propriety emboldened her. She stood up and demanded of the smaller white girl.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Camping,” replied Iona disingenuously. “Who are you?”

“These are the shrines of my clan. You have desecrated them.”

“I have not,” Iona countered. “The smoke from my fire has not disfigured the symbols on the walls and besides, these symbols are unimportant,” (Iona swept her hand around the overhang.) The important symbols are those where you have just come from inside that rocky buttress. Where you worshipping in there?”

The girls eyes flickered momentarily with resentment.

“These are my clan’s symbols; I have every right to visit here. You do not!”

“Why not?” Iona asked

“You desecrate them by showing no respect.”

“How do you know I have not shown respect?” Iona pressed.

“You will not have known the ways.”

“How do you know?” Challenged Iona.

“You are not of our clan, not of our tribe.”

“But I can still show respect. Maybe not with your clan signs but there are universal signs of respect known to all.”

“All of us, yes. But you are not of us.”

For an answer, Iona walked up to the buttress, ducked under the vegetation and stood by the sacred images. The aboriginal girl hurried after her anticipating some sort of sabotage or defacement, instead she found Iona standing respectfully with her hand placed upon a bright red hand located discreetly in a hollow depression low in the shaded corner of the rock-face. The girl had not noticed the additional symbol earlier because it was not obvious and not impinging on the spiritual or heavenly significance of the main figures. Hidden away in a discreet corner, the red hand was a demonstrably a universally neutral symbol with no clan significance. Just the sort of symbol that a friendly aboriginal stranger would have placed to show awareness and respect.

The young aboriginal girl stared at Iona’s gesture and recognised it’s intent. The red hand in the hollow exactly matched Iona’s hand which clearly demonstrated that the white visitor had placed the symbol. More importantly, the white girl had used red blood and this was an act of huge portent. The stranger clearly wished to communicate with somebody, anybody; and the young aborigine recognised this. Her demeanour changed instantly from confrontation to inquiry.

“Did you use the blood of that cassowary to make your sign?”

“Yes.”

“Is the cassowary your spirit?”

“No.”

“Then why did you kill it?”

“I didn’t. It died fighting another cassowary. I simply cooked it to eat it.”

The girl’s face grimaced with disgust.

“What! You eat carrion?”

“It was fresh. It actually died as I was carrying it back to camp. The wounds from its fight killed it.”

The girl nodded acceptance then changed the subject.

“So, why have you come here, why to our clan shrine?”

“I didn’t come specifically for this shrine, I was just trekking through the forest and happened upon it. When I realised it was a spiritual place, I decided to stay a while.”

“Alone?” The girl asked.

“Alone,” Iona confirmed.

“White people don’t usually believe in our spirits. They laugh at us.” The girl accused.

“Spirits can be wherever you find them,” Iona countered then asked. “Are you here to go dreaming?”

“No. I’m here to see that the shrine is okay and our clan spirit is respected. In our clan, a girl is not encouraged to try dreaming until she has become a mother.”

Iona nodded her understanding and the girl’s face frowned. Even under the white ash, Iona could read the distress. She used another telepathic probe and learned that the girl was looking for a mate but had not found a suitable candidate yet. She decided to risk a question.

“You have risked a lot to travel here alone. Were you seeking something else at your shrine as well?”

The girl nodded but refused to offer any further information. Iona persisted.

“Are you trying to ‘walk-about’?”

The girl hesitated then replied nervously.

“Girls aren’t supposed to go walk-about, even mothers don’t. Mostly adult men do it and sometimes older boys.”

Iona nodded before replying. “Yes, that’s what I thought. Should not a man be maintaining your clan shrine, or at least a group for their safety if it’s girls?”

“There is nobody left of our clan who can do this. There is only me and some of the old people. The young ones leave for the city or take up white-men’s ways.”

Iona nodded thoughtfully.

“Are you the last of your clan then?”

“The last whole one, the last dreamer. When my mother and my aunt die I’ll be the last. My father died before.”

Iona knew that aborigines had a different sense of time so the word ‘before’ could mean lots of things. She didn’t press further but now the girl was curious.

“Why are you walking alone? Don’t you think it’s dangerous?”

“Yes,” Iona agreed, “that’s why I take precautions. D ’you want the last of this meat.”

The girl nodded and took the proffered slice of cassowary breast. As she swallowed the first mouthful she realised she had not yet even
exchanged names and yet they had shared food, broken bread.

“What is your name?”

“Iona, what’s yours?”

“Mary.”

“Don’t you have an aboriginal name?”

“Yes.”

Iona raised an eyebrow questioningly and the girl eventually responded.

“I should not tell a stranger but we have shared food, my proper name is Pangarie.”

“Meaning soulful,” Iona observed.

The girls eyes widened.

“Do you speak our tongues as well?”

“Not a lot but I learn quickly.”

“Well it actually translates more accurately to mean ‘of the soul’. Do you know what your name ‘Iona’ means in my language?”

Iona wagged her head and the girl rapped her knuckles on the tree.

“It means this, it means tree.”

Iona shrugged and grinned before replying.

“Pretty commonplace then.”

Pangarie nodded then motioned to the Dingo bitch who had taken the stripped cassowary carcass and demolished it in a few gulps.

“Is she yours? She seems tame.”

“No. She’s wild as far as I know but she likes free meat.”

“You can afford to waste good meat on a wild dingo? Are you a hunter?”

Iona shrugged and replied non-commitedly.

“Not normally, but out here, needs must.”

Pangarie studied the dingo then observed insightfully.

“And her needs as well?”

“She’s hurt her rear paw, she couldn’t hunt.”

Pangarie frowned.

“Are you trying to make a pet of her?”

“No, when she’s ready, I expect she’ll go – cubs and all.)

“You could make a pet of one of the cubs. I’d like to have one.”

“You’d have to ask her. They’re not my cubs.”

“If you feed her long enough, she’ll attach herself to you, you know that don’t you. They’re not like wolves, they were originally domesticated dogs.”

“If she does, it’ll be her choice, not mine. I travel light”

“So I see. How long do ‘you intend staying here?”

“I don’t know.”

Pangarie glanced around the fireside.

“You can’t just live on meat alone, what fruit are you eating.”

“None. I don’t know what’s edible and what’s poisonous.”

“I can teach you if you let me have one of her cubs.”

“I’ve told you, they’re not my cubs. Besides, they’re not weaned yet.”

“If you stay here much longer, they will be.”

“Well how long did you intend staying?” Iona asked.

“Only a few days, but if I wait long enough and give it food, I might get it to stay with me. If the big one allows me to approach it.”

Iona was giving very little away at this stage. So far, the nearest the adult bitch had come was to snatch some cassowary skin from her outstretched fingers. However that had only taken three days so there was hope yet of a closer attachment.

Pangarie looked around the dwindling fire and remarked.

“You’ll need more food by tomorrow morning.”

Iona nodded unconcernedly then added.

“I’ll get some meat, while you find some berries or roots or something.”

Pangarie grinned as she declared.

“With my people it’s usually the men that hunt for meat, we girls usually dig out grubs and roots, or berries if we find a suitable tree. This time of year is a bit early for most fruit but I think I know of a tree that’ll be fruiting over across the big creek.”

“Would there be any crocs in that creek?” Iona asked.

“Possibly some freshies, but no salties, we’re over forty miles from the nearest salt-water and the creek plunges over a couple of rocky escarpments.

We’ve always considered the stream fairly safe. Freshies are too small to bother adult humans but they might try their luck with a little-un.

We might as well gather some more wood before it gets dark,” Pangarie suggested.

Iona agreed and soon they had a good store of wood drying under the cliff ridge. Whilst disturbing the wood, Pangarie also discovered several fat grubs. She offered one to Iona who tried it after washing it and cooking it.

“Mmm! These aren’t bad,” Iona declared.

Pangarie nodded then simply ate hers raw. Iona watched her then asked.

“Are these those famous Wichita grubs?”

“No,” Pangarie replied, “those are found across on the other side. These are another sort and they are tastier”

Iona presumed that Pangarie was referring to land ‘across’ the Gulf of Capentaria and she had to admit, the grubs tasted really good. Pangarie watched her savouring a second grub and the young woman smiled.

“You should try one raw, they taste better.”

“Uuuh, these are fine,” replied Iona, “perhaps tomorrow.”

Pangarie added some more wood to the fire and made preparations for bed. Seeing her do this, Iona took her sleeping bag from her pack and rolled it out. Pangarie’s eyes widened hopefully.

“Does that open out?” Can two of us use it?”

Iona hesitated. It was a single bag with no long side-opening zip. This was to ensure it remained insect proof. Both of them might be small enough to squeeze into it but Pangarie still didn’t know that Iona was anatomically a male. Iona was in a quandary. It would be churlish to refuse the girl the shared comfort and warmth of the bag but what of the shock of her possibly learning of Iona’s condition.

She scanned Pangarie’s mind telepathically to determine what sort of attitudes she might have to Iona declaring her masculinity. Having ascertained Pangarie’s innocence surround most matters sexual, she cautiously revealed the problem.

“Uuuhm, there could be a problem if we share. If you are prepared to face that problem then we might be able to share the bag, but it will be a tight fit.”

“I don’t mind. Our peoples have cuddled together for thousands of years. It’s the natural way to keep warm.”

“Yes, I know,” Iona agreed, “but this would be different.”

She hesitated whilst double checking Pangarie’s mind-set. Pangarie frowned uncertainly, thinking she had somehow offended Iona. Iona moved quickly to reassure the girl.

“No, it’s not about you being aborigine and me being white, it goes much deeper than that. I must tell you about me.”

“Go-oo on,” Pangarie replied uncertainly.

“Well, the truth is, I’m not a girl. I may look like a girl and behave like a girl, especially with these,” she cupped her naked breasts, “but down there, I’m actually a boy. Your people might think it wrong for you to sleep cuddled up to a man.”

Pangarie’s eyes glittered with anxiety, she wanted to be angry at Iona’s seeming deception but as she reflected silently, the small, slightly-built, white woman she saw before her had not, at any time, behaved like a man, - no sly glances or unwanted remarks, no uninvited touches; in fact the white girl had behaved impeccably. Nevertheless, Iona’s revelation changed everything. It was Pangarie’s turn to be in a quandary. From where she sat beside the embers, she felt almost guilty as her eyes were drawn up irresistibly to the ‘vee’ of Iona’s clearly feminine panties. There was hardly any sign of anything masculine unless you bent forward and actually peered closely up at the slender gusset of the panties.

“Are you sure? I can’t see anything.”

Iona’s eyes rolled slightly, partly with anger, partly with anxiety, and partly with impatience. She turned her face away to hide her annoyance before replying.

“Of course I’m sure, surely you don’t expect me to have to make some rude display.”

Pangarie’s eyes still stared fixatedly on the pertinent area as she shook her head disbelievingly.

“But there’s nothing there. Your panties look just like mine – you know just the mons. There’s no proof, leastways, not from where I’m sitting.”

Iona sighed patiently.

“Look, I’m going to take a bath before turning in, the rock is still quite warm so the water will not be too cold. If you turn away, I’ll get in the pool and you can look from the bank. That way, there won’t be any threat. I’ll put my panties back on after bathing and you won’t be embarrassed or shamed or whatever. By the way, if you decide you still want to share the bag, you’ll have to rinse off all that ash stuff as well.”

Pangarie nodded consent and Iona stepped out of her panties before lowering herself slowly into the pool. For a few minutes, she rinsed everything but her hair then called to Pangarie who was now standing on the bank with her interest concentrated on Iona’s pertinent bits.

“D ’you mind, I want to get out now.”

“Do you mind if I join you, you can wash the white-ash off my back and stuff?”

“What, you mean join me here in the pool?”

“Yes.” I can see your thing now and it’s tiny. That doesn’t frighten me.”

“It was never meant to. You weren’t meant to ever see it.”

“Well, can I get in? You can wash my back and my hair.”

“I’m not your slave,” Chuckled Iona, “but yes, okay.”

Pangarie needed no further encouragement and she slid off the rocky ledge into the pool. Iona stood still as Pangarie ducked under the water and emerged from the water right by Iona’s tummy.

“Did you get a good look?” Iona asked accusingly.

“Well I just wanted to check properly.”

“There was no need, you should have believed me.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t see the balls.”

“Hello girl! Wake up call, the water may be tepid but it’s still cold enough to shrink them. They’re tucked up out of sight. Now turn around and I’ll do your back. You can do your own tits and bits.”

Pangarie duly obliged and Iona quickly realised that the wet ash acted like a soapy lye.

“Hey! This stuff is good. It’ll do as a crude shampoo.”

“So saying she tried a bit on her hair and her observations proved correct. She pressed a handful from Pangarie’s hair to the rock for use later then she ‘shampooed her own hair followed by Pangarie’s. When she rinsed her own hair she was pleasantly surprised by the texture but she had an even bigger surprise when she returned to Pangarie’s hair. When Pangarie first appeared that morning, her hair was caked in dust and sweat and when she had smeared the ash all over it had simply caked into her hair. Now that Iona had washed it out, she was surprised to realise that Pangarie’s hair was not curly but straight.

“Hey girl! How come your hair’s straight. I thought aborigines had curly negroid hair.”

“Yeah, don’t rub it in. I get enough stick from the remnants of my tribe, that’s why the men shun me, they say I’m a half-blood and that I should join my drunken, misfit siblings in the city. When I objected and said I wanted to follow the old ways, they pretty much shunned me.”

“That’s awful!” Iona hugged her, totally ignoring her male nudity. “Why would they be so horrible?”

As tears came to Pangarie’s eyes, she explained.

“They seem to believe that because I obviously have some half-blood that must go back generations, then I cannot ever see into the dream times properly and connect properly with the spirits who live there.”

“But weren’t you connecting with them earlier in the cave?”

“Not really. I was apologising for the state of the shrine and the shortcomings of my clan; my shortcomings because none of the true-blood men with marry me; no more children- no more clan!”

“Bloody hell, that’s just sick – and stupid.”

“Is it?” Pangarie asked as the tears really began to flood.”

“Yes, it damned-well is!” Iona cursed before adding unthinkingly, “anybody can enter the dream time if they have the gifts.”

“Well seemingly, I don’t. It must be the half-blood handicap.”

Iona decided to take the bull by the horns yet again and reveal her telepathy - the gift that enabled her to cross over. She grasped Pangarie by the shoulders and stared into her tearful eyes.

“Now listen Pangarie. I’m going to show you something”

Pangarie flinched fearfully and Iona’s telepathy recognised the primordial female fear of rape.

“No. Not that, nothing like that! This much more important and indeed, much more powerful than rape. Now listen and watch.”

Pangarie’s shoulders relaxed with a sudden overwhelming sense of calm and joy. She couldn’t understand what had just happened but somehow she felt at peace and utterly safe. Iona had just enveloped her mind with a loving telepathic embrace.

“There, does that feel better?”

“Why yes, what did you do to me?”

“I’ll explain later. Now look at the dingoes. I’m going to call them over. Don’t be afraid, they won’t bite you and after this, they never will.”

Without moving her lips or hands and without making a single sound Iona simply blinked her eyes, mainly for effect so that Pangarie could see some sort of physical interaction. Pangarie watched disbelievingly as the mother dingo stood up and padded forward with its wagging tail thrust proudly upwards. At the edge of the pool, it yipped softly and Iona reach out backwards without checking visually to stroke the dingo’s head and muzzle. The dingo licked her hand and whined softly as Iona continued.

“Now I’ll invite the cubs over.”

Pangarie continued watching as Iona stepped back towards the rocky edge of the pool and the cubs arrived to nuzzle her fingers while the mother lay down totally unconcerned.

“How did you do that?”

“I have the gift Pangarie. Entering the dream times is easy for me but I don’t have any acquaintances or names in the dream times. There is nobody there who can acknowledge me. Do you have spirits on the other side, in your tribe’s dream times?”

“Of course I do. My own father for one and many other ancestors who have not yet re-incarnated.”

“By re-incarnated, d ‘you mean come back as a new-born?”

“Yes.”

“Well that won’t affect this visit. Would you accompany me to your tribal dream-time and enable me to meet the spirits?”

“But you are not one of us – I am not fully one of us, the elders have told me this. It might not be safe for you or me to go.”

“Not tonight Pangarie, it is too late though the dark does not frighten me. Let us sit with the dingoes and I will explain further while we dry.”
So saying she slid up onto the rocky ledge of the pool, then stood up so that Pangarie got a full-blown exposure of Iona’s masculinity. Having now realised that there was something very special about the little white, (she still thought of Iona as a girl despite the obvious contradiction,) girl, Pangarie also stood totally naked as Iona bent to put more sticks on the fire.

As they stood drying by the flames Pangarie pressed more questions.

“What else can you do besides talk to the animals?”

“I can talk to you; you know without speaking aloud. Do you want to try it?”

“How’d ‘you mean?”

“Have you heard of a thing called telepathy?”

“Yes. Voices, like when we talk to the dead spirits.”

“Yes, well that’s partly right but I can also speak to the live spirits. Spirits like yours, and I can speak from a long way away. I don’t need totems or symbols to reach other spirits. Do you want me to show you?”

Pangarie bit her lip uncertainly.

“You won’t hurt me or harm me?”

“Not at all. I will go behind the buttress and speak to you from across the creek.”

“Be careful. It’s dark and if there are any freshies, they’ll be looking for food at night.”

“Believe me Pangarie, there’s isn’t an animal alive that can harm me.”

Pangarie watched uncertainly as Iona disappeared around the buttress, then re-emerged from the bushes a hundred yards lower down the valley to step unconcernedly into the bigger creek that flowed slowly towards the coast. Pangarie knew for certain that there were fresh water-crocodiles in the deep pool that Iona was now swimming across and she shuddered with fear as she watched the diminutive girl approach the far bank. To her horror she saw the dreaded shape writhing through the crystal-clear water then suddenly stop and go limp.

Pangarie continued watching in amazement as the white girl actually turned towards the saurian terror then dragged it back to their side of the creek.

Even more frighteningly, she hear Iona’s voice enter her head.

“Don’t just stand there girl, this bloody croc is heavy. I’ll need a hand getting it up to the cave.

Pangarie called out instinctively. “Coming!” As she galumphed excitedly down the slope. When she reached Iona, she found her panting for breath at the edge of the vegetation before tackling the slope back to the cave. The dingoes had also followed her and commenced barking excitedly as they sniffed the freshly killed feast.

“How the hell did you do that?” Demanded Pangarie.

“What? Killing the croc or calling to you telepathically?”

Pangarie suddenly froze as the realisation hit her. Iona had not made a single sound nor had she appeared to fight or wrestle with the croc. Indeed she had not moved her lips at all while resting beside the dead croc. Fearfully she croaked at Iona.

“You are in my head!”

“Correct, but don’t be frightened, just think your thoughts and you won’t have to speak them.”

Pangarie was about to ask how that worked but instead she decided to try it.

“How can you read my thoughts?”

“Just like you read mine when I asked for help to get this lump of meat back to camp.”

As the realisation dawned that they were talking by thought, Pangarie almost froze with fear. Iona used a prosaic attitude to bring her back to functionality.

“Look girl, are you going to stand there thinking all night, or are you going to help me with this bloody croc. It’s heavy!”

The return to the mundane physicality of dragging the croc up the slope, brought Pangarie out of her trance.

“Uuh! Oh sorry, yes. Silly me.”

So saying both girls made short work of carrying the croc and were grateful to deposit the carcass by the fire.

“We’ll have to gut it, or it’ll taste awful by the morning.” Observed Pangarie.

“Damn. That’ll mean washing again before we go to bed.”

“It’s got to be done, crocs eat all sorts of shit, you have to remove the entrails as soon as.”

Iona shrugged, took her knife from her ruck-sack and they dragged the carcass to the stream below their bathing pool. In minutes flat Pangarie had done the honours and tossed the entrails towards the bushes well away from the campsite. The dingoes wolfed down the feast instantaneously while the ‘girls’ washed up again by the light of the campfire.

As they emerged from the pool for the second time, push came to shove vis-a-vis the sleeping arrangements.

“How shall we do this?” Iona offered Pangarie the choice.

“Alythough your tiney, you’re slightly bigger than me; you’d better spoon me.”

“Yeah. Like that’ll work.” Iona countered with some sarcasm. “And what happens if ‘he’ gets curious?" (She pointred to her male organ.) "Best if you spoon me. That way you’re safe.”

Iona sighed philosophically as she sensed a tiny whisper of disappointment emanate from Pangarie’s psyche. She took the bull by the horns.

“What, are you saying you are curious as well? Did I just detect disappointment?”

Pangarie’s eyes flickered with confused embarrassment as she realised Iona had read her mind.

“That’s not fair! You read my thoughts!”

“Hardly surprising since we’re communicating telepathically, is it?”

“You mean, I can’t hide them, my thoughts that is?”

“Sadly not, unless I make an effort to separate your thoughts and our communications. I was checking to see if you were happy about sleeping behind me. Seemingly, I note that you would prefer me to spoon you even with the risk of you-know-what.”

“We would fit better and it would be more comfortable. You could wear your panties and that would stop any nonsense.”

“And you yours.” Iona added for good measure. “They should be dry by now.”

Having agreed on sleeping arrangements, they charged the fire with extra wood, put their panties back on then crawled into the bag. Pangarie waited for Iona to get right into the bag then she pushed her feet into the remaining space and inveigled her way into what was virtually a cocoon - with cotton in front of her and flesh behind.

Once tucked in up to her neck, Pangarie snuggled and wriggled her butt into the ‘el-shaped’ cavity formed by Iona’s thighs and tummy.

“You’d better stop that right now,” Iona protested. “There’s only so much a girl with extra bits can withstand. Lie still please.”

Pangarie smiled to herself only to have Iona protest.

“I heard that!”

“What?”

“That thought! I warned you. You can stop thinking that right now!”

Pangarie cursed audibly.

“Dammit Iona! Is nothing sacred?”

“Not those thoughts. I have to protect myself.”

“From what?”

“Accusations of rape,” Iona grated.

“By whom? Who’s to know, who’s to care, nobody wants a half-breed abo who can’t even reach dream times properly.”

“Don’t put yourself down like that. That’s exactly what I was like before all this telepathy came to me.”

“Oh yeah!” Pangarie cursed. “Like telepathy’s going to come to me. How? You said you were born with it.”

“Well that’s as maybe, the fact is I don’t screw around on first nights, in fact I don’t screw around at all.”

“What even if a girl’s willing?”

“Especially if a girl’s willing! They have to understand the consequences!”

“Which are?”

“Not here, not now,” Iona sighed wearily. “Just go to sleep and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Pangarie gave snort of impatience and drove her butt angrily against Iona’s tummy.

“Temper, temper girl,” Iona scolded her softly, “there’s a whole book of stuff you need to know about my problems before anything happens.

You’ll see, now go to sleep.”

Pangarie reluctantly fell silent but sleep escaped her. To her chagrin, Iona had dozed off but minutes after they had stopped arguing. Eventually, sleep came and even the intense thunder-storm followed by torrential rain did not disturb either girl in the small hours.

The only consequence was that the dingo and her cubs had moved deeper into the cave to stay dry and share the warmth from the embers of the fire. At dawn, Iona managed to extricate herself from the sleeping bag without disturbing Pangarie for in truth she had slipped telepathically into Pangarie’s sleeping mind and somulised her briefly while she washed and relit the fire. When Pangarie finally awoke she found the dingoes curled up against the sleeping bag and the delicious smell of crocodile being cooked. The sun was already quite high and she sat up guiltily.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“No need. You were sleeping like a baby so I let you lie on. You’re going to need all your strength and knowledge when I lead you to the dream times.”

“But you’re not one of us so how do we cross over to the dream time and even if we do, I certainly won’t be accepted by my tribal spirits.”

“How do you know?” Iona challenged.

“The men of the tribe have told me. Only men and mothers are able to cross, after they have been initiated.”

“Well, we’ll find out only when we enter the dream times won’t we? Don’t believe everything other people tell you; especially if they have anything to lose by your finding the truth.”

“What would the tribal elders lose by my ‘crossing over’ as you call it?” Pangarie asked.

“Power, influence, control - to name but a few things.”

“But they need that to guide what’s left of the tribe.”

“Ah! Now there you’ve hit the nub of it; ‘what’s left of the tribe! - so to do that, they’ve left one last fertile woman in that tribe with hang-ups about her suitability and worthiness to be a mother. They have caused you to feel like some sort of pariah, a lesser being who is not worthy of carrying on the clan family lines. That doesn’t strike me as being wise. What happens to your clan after you die?”
Pangarie fell silent and stared into the flames of the fire. Iona sat silent, letting the girl digest her thoughts. She also slid a secret telepathic probe into Pangarie’s tormented mind so that she would have constructive answers when Pangarie started to ask questions. It wasn’t long before Iona sensed the questions coming.

“How will you enter the dream times, what herbs will you use?” Pangarie pressed.

“I don’t need drugs Pangarie,” Iona reassured her, “neither will you if you stay close to me.”

“How is that.”

“One of my secrets Pangarie is that I have travelled over to the other side on many different occasions and with many different peoples. I actually have friends on the other side who are not my family and not even of my race, but they recognise me and welcome me for what I am and what I can do.”

Pangarie digested this then asked.

“So how do you travel the path, how do you cross over.”

“Because I have my special gift, my telepathy. You already know of this for you have felt me in your mind. Well, I have other truths as well, other gifts. You might learn of some and not learn of others. It matters not. What matters is that I need you to join me crossing the dream time so that I can learn from your ancestors, your clan sprits. They will be more comfortable if they can recognise you; otherwise they might be afraid if I just appear in the dream times unrecognised and uninvited.”

Pangarie stuttered nervously.

“What! You say the spirits might be afraid of you? What sort of powers do you have?”

Iona silently scolded herself for she was angry at her own choice of words.

“Well not afraid exactly, unsettled might be a better word, disturbed perhaps. They have no need to fear me as they, and you, will learn when we cross over.”

Pangarie still felt a little nervous.

“Do I have to cross over? Will your force me to?”

“No! I don’t force anybody to do anything. All force achieves is resentment and enmity. I thought the whole reason for your coming to your clan shrine was to speak to you spirits.”

“Yes. It is.” Pangarie confirmed. “I’m sorry I lied earlier, It’s just that, well, I’m afraid. According to our tribe, I’m not qualified, not entitled.”

“We’ll all I can say to your tribal elders is that I say you are. I can tell you I am qualified to say you are and you must know this because you have seen and felt enough evidence; my telepathy, my restraint in the sleeping bag, the control of the dingoes. Does that not tell you something?”

Suddenly Pangarie had a flash of insight.

“Have you got something planned for me?”

“Not planned for you, but you will be offered options after we have entered and then departed the dream times.”

“Are you saying then that I’m some sort of ‘chosen one’?”

“No, our meeting was by pure chance. I certainly was not expecting anybody to happen along whilst I was here. In fact, I chose this place because it was remote and I wanted some time to reflect in silence and peace before attempting to cross into the aboriginal dream times on my own. Then you appeared and it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up; somebody the spirits would recognise, and further proof that I offer no harm or insult. As I said, if our crossing is successful, I will be able to offer you material choices and those choices should bring you the happiness you seek. It will be your choice to accept or refuse them. I will also add there are no dangers attached to the choices.”

Pangarie felt a nervous thrill flutter in her tummy. Curiosity finally overcame her primordial fears and she eventually agreed. The one thing she knew with absolute certainty was that she had felt no coercion and certainly no threat. Having decided to accompany the strange white girl, she decided she would continue considering Iona to be a girl because at no time had she felt the usual, familiar fears when she was around men. Finally she nodded her assent and Iona reached out to hug her. Pangarie stepped into Iona’s arms and their naked breasts pressed against each other which only served to reinforce Pangarie’s decision to count Iona as a sister.

As the embrace tightened, Pangarie whispered once more for reassurance.

“I will be safe, I mean we will be safe, won’t we?”

“Don’t worry Pangarie. As I said, I have friends on the other side but they came from other peoples, other cultures, other places. I only seek to enter the dream times because those places are the last different places and times that I know of. Your people’s relationship with all sorts of spirits is probably one of the earliest surviving connections to all that is human and basic to the land – the rocks, the soil, the trees, the water and so on. It is this root that I wish – no; I need to understand before I can move on.”

Pangarie leaned back in confusion.

“Move on? Move on where?”

“That’s just it Pangarie. I don’t know ‘where’! – Or how, or when, or why. I am hoping that the most basic aboriginal cultures might get me closer to the foundations of humanity’s ascent. I cannot build my understanding on shifting metaphorical sands. Modern religions have not brought me insight or understanding, older religions serve me even worse. One thing I notice is that the closer I get to humanity’s archaeological depths, the more the old cultures seemed concerned with life. The stone-aged figurines always seem to emphasise female fertility, while later religions, especially the monotheist ones seem more concerned with death and damnation in the afterlife. For me the fertility aspect is the more fulfilling one but I am still concerned with the other side, what comes after death. My telepathy has given me an incredible and priceless opportunity to explore these things. If only for my own peace of mind.

I am hoping your aboriginal tribal sense of connection to earth spirits, water spirits, tree spirits and animal spirits might shed some light. Call it a sort of spiritual ‘pantheism’ but it seems the most viable option to me, - the most effective tool.”

Pangarie felt a thrill of pride that this strange white woman with her incredible gifts, should choose her aboriginal nation’s cultures and beliefs to find some sort of solution to her life issues. Iona sensed Pangarie’s pride with her telepathy and their embrace tightened. In silence they savoured this most intimate of emotional connections before Iona eventually released the girl.

“Come on then, there’s work to do, but first I suggest we make sure we have full bellies. There’s no knowing how long this will take or how hard the journey will be.”

Pangarie smiled knowingly.

“After that rain last night, I think I might know of some fruit that might be available. It won’t be ripe but it will add to the meat.”
Iona’s eyes widened with appreciation.

“Then go and get them girl. I’m getting tired of meat, meat, meat.”

Within a short walk that led them into some very dense rain-forest, Pangarie finally stood at the base of a tree that bore some fruit that Iona had never seen before.

“What are these?”

“We call them Pari-wari. The white people think they are poisonous but this is only the case when they are ripe and sweet. Strangely, when they are green, they are okay after you boil them. You can try one now but they are bitter until you boil them. Then they become palatable, not a sweet delicacy but they count as vegetables.”

Charged with this information, Iona copied Pangarie and they gathered most of the fruit that was within easy reach. Back at the camp they boiled them and Iona savoured a new taste.

“Mmmm. These’ll do. Thanks Pangarie. Meat and veg for a change.”

The pair ate their fill then Pangarie grinned and passed a tasty morsel to the dingo cub that had most taken a liking to her. The bitch took this as a signal and edged forward hopefully with the second cub.

“Okay then mum. It would be really churlish to deny you a meal.” Iona chuckled and emptied the cooking pot at the feet of the dingo who immediately wolfed it down.

When bitch and cubs had settled again in their usual spot under a deep ledge, Iona stood up and motioned to Pangarie.

“Well, let’s get to work, dream times here we come.”

Pangarie stood up and followed her slightly apprehensively into the tribal cave where the important tribal paintings had decorated the cave walls for centuries. In the green gloom, she shuddered slightly until Iona put a reassuring arm around her shoulders.
They settled respectfully on their haunches and Iona took Pangarie’s hand.

“Just hold on to me and don’t be afraid.”

Pangarie was surprised to suddenly feel sleepy, though she had never felt tired during the morning. Then to her amazement, she felt as though she was dreaming and yet Iona was still alongside her and holding her hand. Briefly a darkness enveloped them and she clutched Iona’s hand tightly until slowly, a feint indiscernible glow started to grow and brighten until Pangarie could distinguish shapes that resembled the shapes of the wall paintings.

At first she thought they were the cave paintings but steadily, the glow seemed to increase and the shapes acquired vivid hues much brighter than the wall paintings. Then the colours seemed to start moving, very slightly at first – almost indiscernible but soon the colours resemble waving fronds of rainbow and the colours were intense.

Despite the incomprehensible illusions, she still knew she was actually conscious because she felt Iona’s hand tighten and then heard her voice explain something.

“Pangarie, do you hear me?”

“Yes!” Pangarie almost sobbed with incomprehension. “What are these moving colours?”

“I believe it is the threshold, beyond them is the dream time of your people. In other cultures this invariably seems to appear, to me at least, as a dark, obsidian mass but this is your culture and this is totally different. It seems to represent how your people celebrate death and explains why they speak of the Dream times. – The colours I mean; death is to be celebrated is that how you understand it?”

“That’s what the elders have told me, I never understood it because I was broken after dad died. My mother and aunt told me it was because I had not given him grandchildren but nobody would marry me because of what they called my half blood. The lighter skin and straight hair.

Every man turned away and eventually our family were shunned.

My mother and aunt never forgave me even though they let me stay in the tribe. I am not illegitimate though; my dad is my dad and my mum is my mum.”

“Well that’s not important now. The important thing is to cross over. I think I can see a way, hold my hand tightly.”

Pangarie gripped Iona’s hand with a ferocious grip born of fear and uncertainty while she felt a slight nausea that rapidly turned to stomach churning sickness. Iona sensed Pangarie’s discomfort and supported her as the colours started to swirl and spin around them. The nausea turned to dizziness and suddenly they found themselves on what Pangarie could only presume to be the other side. For several moments there were strange symbols swirling and twisting on what might had been deemed walls but these eventually settled down and Pangarie heard a feint voice.

“Welcome Pangarie, why are you dreaming here?”

“Who are you?” Pangarie asked.

“A spirit of your clan, who is your guest?”

“She brought me here, her name is Iona.”

For several long uncertain seconds a silence hung about the pair then another voice spoke.

“Iona, I am He-that-sees. Are you still seeking?”

“Yes.” Iona replied as Pangarie listened intently.

“If you find what you seek, will you then rest?”

“Probably,” Iona replied again, “though not necessarily on this side; not yet anyway.”

“I see your children -my grandchildren- sometimes cross over to speak to me and they cross back.”

“That is the nature of my children. We all knew this when you enlightened me.”

“Do you intend to cross over when the time comes or will you stay on that side.”

“That’s a question I have not answered yet.”

“If you wish, your gift will enable you to stay on that side or this. You are the first Iona, and we of the spirit world can only advise you. Yours’ is a lonely road.

“I will face it when I must and walk it as I can. I am asking now for this child to be helped.”

Pangarie’s ancestor spirit interrupted.

“She is not a child; she should have children. Her father is bereft.”

Iona felt forced to answer on Pangarie’s behalf.

“That is not Pangarie’s fault. She wants a child but she believes she is only half-blood and the tribal elders tell her so.”

Pangarie listened with astonishment that her companion could cross over and then start arguing with the spirits. Like all peoples, all over the world, whatever their perceptions of the ‘other side’, they held the spirit or spirits to be omnipotent.

Pangarie’s spiritual ancestor replied.

“Her tribal elders are wrong. Half-blood is full blood.”

“That’s what I told her; in so many ways. You tell her! Or better still, bring her father before her and let him tell her.”

“That is not possible, her father has not been ‘crossed-over’ for long enough.”

Iona tutted irritably.

“Bloody hell. I weary of the spirit world. He that see’s, are you still there?”

“Yes,” came back the disembodied voice of Iona’s beloved friend.”

“Will you tell her?”

“It is enough that she has crossed over and been told. Now you know what you must do for her tribe.”

“What! More babies?”

“Yes!” Came back a chorus of voices that Pangarie could only conclude was like an invisible panel of judges at a court hearing.

She squeezed Iona’s hand as uncertainty took her. Then she was shocked and yet pleased when Iona returned the hand-squeeze. Next, the disembodied voice of her ancestor returned.

“Iona, take the girl back and explain.”

With a sigh born of frequent similar exchanges she turned to Pangarie and shrugged.

“Have your questions been answered.”

“I think so what did he mean by ‘half blood is full blood’?”

“He means that we’re all human, all the same species, all the same blood. If you mix one race’s blood with another race’s blood it is still human blood”.

“Oh I see. I wish they wouldn’t talk in riddles.”

“Come on then, let’s cross back. Don’t worry about the nausea, it gets easier every time you cross.”

As they stepped towards the cross-over, both Iona and Pangarie distinctly heard the distant laughter of ‘He-that-sees’. Once they had crossed over Pangarie asked about it.

“Did you hear that Indian’s laughter.”

“Yeah, that’s typical of him. He was the one who first enabled me to cross over, way back when I met his first nations daughter. I gave her a child, well two in fact and they are his grandchildren. Like me, they are telepathic and they often bring him great joy when they cross-over to speak their grand-dad.”

For long pregnant moments Pangarie considered Iona’s words as the penny slowly dropped.

“Is that what he was laughing about?”

“Him and all your ancestral spirits!”

Pangarie cursed yet while she grinned.

“Well bugger me. The dirty old bastards. They want me to, - They want, - They want you to give me a child, a telepathic child!”

“They may want it Pangarie, but only you can choose it. You’re in charge of your own body.”

“You mean, those spirits, - my ancestral spirits cannot order me?”

“Certainly not. Your choice, your rules.”

Pangarie’s grin morphed into a licentious smirk.

“Well I’ll be buggered.”

“Tut-tut young lady, language, language. And it’s not buggery, it’s called intercourse. Buggery mean’s taking it up the ar-.”

“I know exactly what buggery means! Don’t be so pedantic!”

At this stage, Pangarie started to chuckle then it turned to raucus laughter. Iona checked her mind and grinned knowingly.

“You see girl, life’s full of ups and down.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Pangarie giggled. “One minute I’m crossing over on the highest spiritual plane, the next minute it’s all about earthy sex and rude pornography.”

“No girl, sex and reproduction.”

“Yeah! Okay then reproduction. So when’s it to be, this insemination? Do we have to get married?”

“None of the other girls have married me.”

“Jeeze! How many are there?”

“Hundreds. In China we impregnated a whole swathe of teenagers who were victims of Mao’s ‘little emperor’ disaster. Then there were girls in India, Egypt, South America, The USA and of course back home in the UK. Where I was born - by the way.”

“You’re British! You sound more American.”

“Long story girl. Now I’m hungry again. Crossing over is hungry work.”

They stepped out of the spiritual cave and back to the camp site only to find that in the anticipated excitement of crossing over, they had both forgotten to hang up the carcass of the crocodile out of the dingo’s reach.
A very satisfied and replete dingo bitch lazed ‘swollen-bellied’ in the sun while two cubs suckled greedily. Pangarie cursed angrily.

“Why you greedy bloody bitch!”

She searched for a stick to beat the animal but Iona restrained her.

“It was our fault for failing to hang the carcass out of reach. Besides, isn’t our job done here. You’ve crossed over and I’ve spoken to aboriginal spirits. We can leave now.”

“We’re not finished yet,” Pangarie smirked knowingly.

Iona immediately grasped Pangarie’s inuendo but she shrugged it off.

“We can do that in the comfort of a nice hotel bedroom, back in Brisbane or Darwin.”

“I’d prefer to do it here, you know – somewhere spiritual, somewhere connected to the clan. If my child is going to be a telepath and easily able to cross over, I would at least like him to understand the tribal roots. You know; some sort of physicality associated with his coming into being.”

“That’ll be another day or so to your fertile cycle, so that’ll mean more hunting. Okay, what’s on the menu?”

“How do you know what my fertile cycle is?” Demanded Pangarie.

Iona tapped her temple knowingly and shrugged as she uttered one word. “Telepathy?”

“Dammit!” Pangarie cursed. “Nothing’s private is it?”

“Sorry girl. Learn to live with it. Besides, it’s only anatomy. Here we are stood together as naked as the days we were born, with our minds connected closer than you could ever have imagined only a day ago and you’re worried about privacy?”

Pangarie shrugged philosophically.

“I suppose so,” she conceded, “when you put it like that. But I still would like that element of connectivity, please.”

“Alright, that’s okay by me.”

Pangarie danced a couple of steps with joy or more correctly, contentment then paused as she reflected,

“So what now, another hunting expedition. That’s going to be a joy with no weapons except your knives and mine.”

“Leave that to me,” Iona reassured her, “but we’d better make a more permanent shelter if we want to keep dry. That rain last night was the harbinger of the rainy season. If it’s windy this cave isn’t deep enough to stop it driving under the ledge. We’ll get soaked unless we stay cuddled together in the sleeping bag all the time. That’s waterproof.”

Pangarie nodded and smiled as she contemplated that idea.

“Mmmm. Now that’s a nice thought, two days to a week of- you know-? But you’re right we can’t survive comfortably without food Leave the shelter and vegetables to me; you just get the meat.”

“Anything special? You know, kangaroo, wombat, another cassowary.”

Pangarie was supremely aware of the threats to native wild-life and she frowned.

“There are a few rabbits on that bare patch on the crest of those hills. It’s bit far away, but you’d be doing this jungle a favour if you killed a few of those pests.”

Iona stared at the distant ridge and shrugged. Her telepathy told her that Pangarie was just trying to test her, to see what Iona’s hunting skills amounted to. She still had not realised that Iona hunted by using her telepathic punch to kill. The crocodile incident had slipped her mind.
Without hesitation Iona set off for the hills as the dingo bitch trotted eagerly after her. Pangarie watched the pair disappearing and then set about finding a tree to strip some bark to make a shelter. Fortunately, it didn’t have to be a ‘bendy’ because the cave sheltered them from the back and most of the falling rain. It would be the driving rain that caused the most discomfort so the shelter was mainly a wall to shield the mouth of the cave.

As she set off to find a suitable tree she was surprised to find Iona had left both her knives at the camp. Pangarie cursed as she realised that Iona was already over the creek and trotting up the opposite side of the valley; out of earshot. She considered going after her but realised the girl was trotting far too quickly.

It was the first time Pangarie had seen Iona moving with purpose and the speed was impressive. She would never have caught her. She decided to concentrate on the shelter until Iona realised she had forgotten her knives and the belt to carry them.

The shelter was finished and Pangarie was savouring some fresh fruit and boiled roots in the late afternoon when Iona returned with several rabbit carcasses tied with a thin vine to a stick. The dingo bitch also looked well fed. The girl’s jaw sagged at the substantial catch and she stood up eagerly to welcome the hunter home.

“Bloody hell! You’ve done well; and no knife or weapon? How did that work?”

“It’ll do for a couple of days. You’re right, the ridge is virtually clear of trees, how did that happen.”

“Illegal loggers moved into the area some years ago before the government stopped them only last year. The rabbits prevent any young seedlings from re-establishing the forest and the government has not yet planted more mature saplings that the rabbits cannot nibble. You’ve done the forest a favour by killing these greedy buggers.”

As she took the rabbit carcasses off Iona, she realised there were no wounds on them.

“How the hell did you kill them?”

“Same way I killed the croc.”

“Pangarie remembered back and realised she had forgotten to ask Iona about the incident in the creek. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she repeated the question. Yes, I remember that now. The croc just stopped swimming towards you and died. How did you do that?”

“Same way I killed these rabbits. I stun them or, if I use more power, I kill them but it takes a lot of energy and I’m hungry. Now are we going to eat them or stand talking all night?”

Iona had already dug her knife out of her pack and was tackling the first rabbit as she spoke. Pangarie stared at the enigma that the white girl had become.

“Are you saying you can stun things with your telepathy thing?”

“Yes,” Iona replied unthinkingly as she was driving the tip of her hunting knife into rabbit’s belly.

The entrails were quickly eviscerated then the skin was whipped off in one skilful twist and tug that left Pangarie staring at the white girl whom she had believed to be a fussy little urban socialite.

“Bloody hell girl, you did that well. Where did you learn those skills?”

“When I was in America, He-that-see’s people taught me. His daughter mainly, the girl who bore our children and He-that-see’s grandchildren.”

“Is she still alive?”

“Very much so, I speak to her telepathic children regularly now. They’re in about the sixth grade now and count me as a sort of extra guide.”

“What! You speak across the ocean?”

“Yes, pass me another rabbit please.”

Pangarie realised she had not even begun her first rabbit yet and she hurriedly took two carcasses off the pole. Iona grinned knowingly as she deftly butchered the second rabbit and lobbed it into the pot.

“D’ you want the skins or can she have those as well.”

“I don’t see much use for them.” Pangarie replied.

“Well, you could make a nice bag with them, better than that old cotton bag you use. We can buy some needles and nylon thread when we get back.”

“Mmm. That’s a good idea. Okay, set them aside.”

“I’ll set them to cure after eating.”

After four rabbit carcasses had been prepared, diced and put to cook in the pot, Pangarie slid across and rested her head on Iona’s legs as she stretched in the sand beside the fire.

“This is nice.”

Iona stroked the girl’s face as she savoured the fire’s warmth.

“Yeah. Living the high life eh. Food, shelter and companionship; all a body needs to remain attached to its soul.”

“That’s okay for you to say. You’ll never want for food with that stun thing.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

The pair relaxed happily and the dingoes seemed to sense the mood. Slowly, the mother approached and curled up in the angle between Iona’s thigh and Pangarie’s shoulder then the cubs followed suite. The aboriginal girl reached out and savoured the dingo’s warm hairy coats while enjoying the easy intimacy. None of the three dingoes flinched as their eyes closed and their tails wagged gently

“This gang know a good deal when they see one,” Pangarie murmured as the evening shadows lengthened. “Is it food or warmth they prefer?”

“She had plenty of food on the hunt. I gave her three rabbits and she ate everything, bones and all. I can only surmise the cubs have suckled well from her.

They lay savouring the silence until the smell of the rabbit stew declared itself ready. Reluctantly the pair got up and disturbed the dogs as they filled their tucker bowls. The nice part was not having to worry about scraps attracting vermin or snakes. The dingoes made sure of that.

After eating their fill, Iona stood again and Pangarie studied her graceful form.

I can’t get over you. Your whole body shouts girl until I look down there.”

“Does it upset you?”

“No. That’s the strange part.”

“Well this girl’s going to clean up. Is there any of that white ash left?”

“Yes, there’s some, but I also collected some plants that make a soapy mixture when they’re crushed. They’re next to the ash on the rock by the pool. Try it, you’ll like them.”

Iona padded naked to the pool and Pangarie followed. The pool was still quite warm and they each washed the other down with the crushed plants. Iona sniffed the lye that leached from the plants and asked.

“Where do these grow?”

“Close to the creek; don’t worry I checked for crocs and the cubs accompanied me.”

Iona nodded as she savoured the super-soft feeling of the herbal lye.

“Mmmm that’s lovely, ooh! Hey, watch-it!”

Pangarie giggled as she fondled Iona’s bits and squeaked with amusement as they responded.

“I’m ready for bed, are you?” Pangarie chuckled.

“We’ll have to dry off first. Can’t sleep in a wet sleeping bag.”

“Spoil sport. Come on let’s dance around the fire.”

Pangarie tugged easily and the willing Iona eagerly followed. Within minutes they were dry enough to spoon into the bag naked.
Recognising each other’s eager willingness there was no suggestion of any coercion as Pangarie surrendered herself.

Cautiously she spooned tight into the protective curve that Iona’s body offered then tensed slightly as she felt the hardness. Being an only child and one the very few latter-day aborigines who chose to follow the old ways, Pangarie was somewhat ignorant of most things carnal. She whispered nervously.

“Promise you’ll stop if I’m hurting.”

“Of course I will. It surprises me and hurts me a little that you feel you have to ask.”

“I’ve heard other girls say it hurts – the first few times, that is.”

“Well I can tell you it doesn’t, not if the man is gentle.”

“What do I have to do now?” Pangarie asked uncertainly.

“Just manoeuvre yourself so that you feel me starting to go in then stop for a moment before going any further.”

Pangarie did as asked then hesitated as she felt gentle fingers reach around and touch her in that special very private place she often touched. She squeaked with surprise to feel unaccustomed fingers doing what she usually did for her own private delight.

“Ooh!” She squeaked again. “Hey, that’s nice. Just keep doing that.”

Iona didn’t reply. Talking would be something of a distraction. Her immediate objective was to reassure the girl and bring her to physical and emotional preparedness. Several times she deliberately paused only to feel Pangarie’s hand grasp her fingers and return them to their task. She sensed Pangarie’s urgency as her preparedness became apparent. As the girl’s body responded, Iona gently pressed and felt herself easily inveigle her penis past the threshold of Pangarie’s innermost sanctuary. She paused considerately only to have Pangarie push herself urgently onto the welcome invader.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered throatily.

Iona was still hesitant. Her many experiences and Pangarie’s responses confirmed that the girl was definitely virgo-intacto.

Gently, she pressed a bit more and felt Pangarie tense. Once again, Iona reassured her.

“I think I’ve reached your hymen. I’ll stay still and let you work your way onto me. Take your time, we’ve got all night.”

“This the bit that can hurt, they say.”

“Sometimes it can be painful, but the best way is to let you do the honours. Just take your time.”

There was a pause and Iona gently reached with her other hand and brushed Pangarie’s nipple. Pangarie gasped and twitched responsively, a move that caused her to inadvertently press a bit harder onto Iona’s penis and rupture her hymen. She squeaked slightly with pain, slightly with surprise but all importantly, essentially with relief at the sensation. It had not hurt anywhere as near as she had feared and Iona could feel Pangarie’s physical tension melt away.

Having crossed her sexual ‘Rubicon’, Pangarie gently rearranged herself and pushed backwards again. Iona picked up on her action and resumed gently thrusting as she sensed Pangarie starting to respond.

The remainder of the union went for Iona as it always had on previous couplings. She used her telepathy to determine Pangarie’s responses and fantasies then she adjusted her performance to exactly complement Pangarie’s needs both mental and physical. Pangarie’s ‘deflowering’ would always be the best sexual experience she would ever have. To add additional fulfilment for Pangarie, there was the knowledge that the child of their lovemaking would be a telepath, the first among her own people and yet able to communicate with other peoples all over the planet. Almost immediately after the act, Pangarie fell into a contented slumber.

For Iona it was as it had always been. She garnered no emotional satisfaction or pleasure from the act. The capacity to emote had been smashed out of her in her earliest childhood and adolescence thanks to uncomprehending psychiatrists in the psychiatric institutions of the north of England and perverted wardens in the children’s home at Mabin park in Wales. While Pangarie slept and dreamed, Iona just lay silent awaiting the dawn. She was however thankful for one small mercy; the ‘Grey Wolves’ did not – for once, come to torment her after the lovemaking.

‘Maybe my issues are resolving themselves’, she thought hopefully.

Eventually the first glow of dawn crept into the eastern sky and gave Iona the excuse to extricate herself from the sleeping bag. She slid out skilfully and re-kindled the fire to have a hot breakfast awaiting Pangarie when she finally awoke.

The smell of cooking rabbit and boiled roots followed by the call of nature, finally dragged Pangarie reluctantly out of the warm sleeping bag. She sniffed appreciatively before crouching down behind a bush to relieve herself. Iona avoided any cause for embarrassment by tending to the fire and stirring the rabbit stew. After briefly washing in the brook, Pangarie joined Iona beside the campfire, leant over and kissed her companion.

“Thanks for last night. It was wonderful.”

“How’re you feeling – you know, down there. Any soreness.”

“A bit, but nothing to complain about. You were ever so gentle. I was always told it would hurt.”

“It shouldn’t, if the man cares and doesn’t behave like some rapacious oaf.”

“Mmm. Can we do it again later?”

“Your choice darling, make sure you’re not too sore down there and there’s no cuts or tears.”

“There doesn’t seem to be, I checked in the pool. There’s a tiny bit of soreness inside, but I think that was my virginity. There’s no blood in the sleeping bag, I checked as I got out.”

Iona turned and kissed Pangarie back before observing.

“There shouldn’t be if the boy is careful and takes his time.”

“Thanks. It was wonderful. Shall we stay here until my fertile cycle is over?”

“No reason not to. There’s plenty of rabbits in that open area across the creek and I spotted some small wallaby or tree-kangaroo tracks. I also found another fruit tree but you’d better check it out, I’m not sure what’s poisonous and what’s not.”

After finishing breakfast, they took the dingoes and crossed the creek to check the area for any other varieties of fruit while the dingoes flushed out an assortment of small creatures. As they emerged scrambling out of the undergrowth, Iona stunned them while Pangarie decided after inspection if they were worth cooking. Within an hour, they had supplies enough for a couple of days and were returning naked back to the camp with their arms full of goodies.

Suddenly Iona sensed strangers at the campsite and she immediately warned Pangarie telepathically.
“They’re not aborigines. Just a bunch of white people enjoying some sort of trekking thing.” Iona informed Pangarie.

“Shit. Shall we hide here until they leave?”

“That’s pointless, their guide has already concluded that the camp is occupied, for the embers are still smouldering.”

As Iona listened telepathically the guide was declaring to the trekkers that the owners of the camp and its fire were idiots for leaving the fire unattended. Iona explained to Pangarie.

“He’s complaining about our camp-fire. It’s safe as far as I see.”

Pangarie expressed her annoyance, as a life-long bush-dwelling aborigine she knew perfectly well that the fire had been left safe. It was surrounded by sand and rock at the back of the cave and the embers were from safe wood that did not spit sparks.

“I’ll bloody tell him what’s safe and what isn’t. This is my tribal land and that’s now recognised by the government. He’s the guest here and the fire is safe!”

So saying she stood up boldly from behind the dense bush then marched naked into the midst of the campers.

“I heard what you said, and the fire is safe.”

The trekkers and the guide turned as one to stare at the naked girl. One loutish oaf stepped towards her.

“Bloody hell! Would ye’r Adam and Eve it! A fuckin abbo! A pure bloody, stark naked abbo! Hello darlin’ wat’cha doin’ ere!”

As the lout spoke he approached her to check her out then turned to his companions.

“Hey fella’s, she’s not so pure! She’s got light skin, straight, ‘air an’ she’s a bit of a looker!”

So saying, he reached out to grab Pangarie’s arm. She screeched angrily and tried to rip her arm free but he just grinned licentiously. Next she tried to punch him but he easily restrained her. Meanwhile, Iona watched from the cover of the dense bushes. Then the dingo bitch emerged from the bushes and stalked stiffly towards the struggling pair whilst snarling and baring her teeth. He aimed a kick at the animal then the guide came forward with a heavy stick he used as a walking staff.

He swung the staff and caught the animal with a vicious blow on the rump. The dingo howled and staggered off back into the bushes as the guide turned to Pangarie.

“You should have that animal secured; it could be dangerous.”

Pangarie yanked again at the loutish trekker’s grip and cursed.

“You should also have this animal secured; it seems more dangerous to me. Tell him to release me.”

“What the hell are you doing wandering about the bush totally naked?” The guide demanded?”

“I live here, it’s my tribe’s land and you know it. If I want to live in the native tribal mode. I will. Now tell him to let me go!”

“Let her go Neill. You’ve had your fun.”

“The trekker smirked and moved to grab Pangarie’s breast before acceding to the guide’s instructions.
He reached over her shoulder from behind and grabbed the ripe globe. Pangarie bent her head down and bit hard on his forearm causing him to curse.

“You fucking wild bitch! If you walk around like a wild animal, you’re gonn’a get treated like one.”

So saying, he pulled his injured arm back and swung a vicious blow at Pangarie’s head. It never connected. From her bush, Iona released a telepathic blow that rocked the trekker back on his heels before he slumped to the ground with a surprised grunt. For an instant Pangarie was as shocked as everybody around her until Iona telepathed the explanation for the bully’s sudden collapse. Having then understood what had happened she gathered her wits and cleverly exploited the situation.

For a long moment, the silence hung like a curtain as the other trekkers stared stupidly at the unconscious bully. Finally the guide recovered his composure.

“What did you just do?” The guide demanded as he bent down to check the bully.

Showing a speed of mind that even impressed Iona, Pangarie snapped

“This is a holy tribal shrine, a gateway to the dream times. He has offended the spirits! You’d better get him out of here.”

A collective miasma of fear started to supplant the sense of shock or curiosity and the trekkers started casting coveteous glances towards the trail they had arrived by. Pangarie did not need Iona’s telepathy to sense the mood of fear amongst the trekkers so she decided to exploit the situation.

“Yes. You’d all better leave this shrine and let me meet my dream spirits as I first intended – alone!”

As soon as the bully had recovered enough to walk, the nervous trekkers started crossing the creek and stumbling along the trail they had arrived by. Once they were far enough away, Iona emerged from the bushes and Pangarie sagged with relief.

“Thanks. That telepathy thing – can you kill somebody with that?”

“I could but I rarely have to. Most idiots get the message after one lesson, just like they did.”

“I wish my spirit was that strong and once again, thanks.”

“No problem darling. How’s the dingo? That wound looks painful.”

They both tended the whimpering bitch and concluded nothing was broken. Then they collected the supplies they had gathered and prepared a meal. As they finished their food Iona lay back by the fire and Pangarie crawled towards her with a hopeful smile. Iona grinned.

“Alright then. Are you sure you’re up for it. No pain down there?”

“A bit, but I think we can try. If it hurts though, will you stop if I say?”

“Of course. I’m not some sort of beast.”

Having agreed, Iona recovered the hidden sleeping bag and unrolled it by the fire. To her surprise Pangari disappeared into the bushes and emerged several minutes later with some herbs.

"If I beat these, they will make a slippery gel and make our loving easier."

Iona nodded her understanding and after crushing the herbs on the big rock by the pool, Pangari returned with the gel. She nodded to the sleeping bag with a smile.

“We don’t have to squeeze inside. Better if we do it on the bag, it’s warm enough.”

Pangarie grinned at the thought of being able to wrap her legs around Iona’s thighs and she rolled onto her back. Iona slid beside her at first then accepted her invitation Iona’s knowing hands worked their magic again and in a short time their emotional embrace was cemented into their second conjugation.

The remainder of their two months at the shrine remained divided between, hunting, eating, ‘dreaming’ and loving until Pangarie missed her cycle.

“I must be with child,” she declared with a certain smugness. “I’m normally as regular as clockwork.”

Iona smiled happily then placed her ear against Pangarie’s tummy.

“Wach’you doing?”

“Just checking.”

“Checking for what.”

“Just checking our twins are okay.”

“Twins!” Pangarie gasped. “How the hell can you tell it’s twins?”

Iona tapped her temple to signify telepathy before answering.

“We’ve got a son and a daughter. I’ll know in about four to six months for certain if one or both are telepathic. I’m more or less certain now but best to be sure.”

Pangarie’s expression changed from incredulity to tearful joy as she reached across to hug Iona while her tears flowed freely over Iona’s breasts. Even the dingoes seemed to sense something special as they crawled forward on their bellies to rest their jaws on Pangarie’s thighs. For Pangarie this was the final confirmation of her womanhood; her becoming a fully enrolled member of her tribe. Iona read her emotions and whispered.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to tell your mum and aunty?”

“Can we wait until they quicken?”

“Your choice my darling. How d’ you think they’ll take it?”

“Will you stay by me, stay by the children?”

“I’m sorry, I cannot do that full time but I promise you that neither you nor your babies will ever lack anything, food shelter, education everything material they could ever want but I can’t be here to father them continuously. I’ll come by at least once a year and they will know who their father is. Once they understand what their telepathy is and learn that the voices in their heads are not imagined, then I can talk with them all the time and any time.”

“And what about me” Pangarie frowned. “Will I be able to stay in touch?

“Of course, I can call you any time; anywhere. Think of me as your provider to access the telepathic web, it’s world-wide. In fact I’m going to set up a collective call right now and you can talk to some of your unborn children’s half kin. My oldest son is called Benjamin we can speak to him right now. Just listen for a moment.”

Pangarie’s eyes widened expectantly then she was surprised and excited to hear a male voice in her head but talking to Iona

“Hi dad! Long-time no hear. We thought you were dead or something.”

Pangarie gasped as she heard Iona reply.

“Hello son, sorry about the silence. How is everybody?”

“Happier to have heard from you. Can I spread the word?

“Yes.”

“Are you with a nontel?”

“Yes; full marks for observation. Her name’s Pangarie and she’s an Aboriginal Eve.”

“Oh wonderful! Hello Pangarie, so congratulations are in order.”

Pangarie glanced nervously towards Iona and Iona smiled as she nodded reassurance.

“Go on, he’s my son, he won’t bite.”

Pangarie paused hesitantly before replying.

“Hello Ben, is that short for Benjamin?”

“Yes. Yours’ is a nice name. Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you.”

“Would you like to meet the rest of the family? There’s rather a lot I’m afraid.”

Again, Pangarie looked to Iona for reassurance and Iona intervened.

“Do it gently Ben, Pangarie’s only just learned about the rest of you.”

“Okay dad, I’ll introduce her to Doctor Mary’s daughter Rebecca first. She named her after her own mother. Rebecca acts as the interceder for the whole family even our Chinese half kin.”

As Iona’s oldest daughter, she had fully expected Rebecca to have taken over that roll. Ben then invited Pangarie in.

“Okay Pangarie, first you’ll hear a sort of chattering like birds gathering for the evening or preparing to migrate but you will soon be able to ignore it as background ‘chiffchaff’ In a few seconds you’ll begin to make out Rebecca and the background noise will begin to fade. This apparently is how it is for the ‘nontels’ who know about our web. They can’t access the web themselves they have to rely upon ‘tels’ to bring them in every time.” Ben then ‘turned’ telepathically to address his sister.

“Hi Becks’, dad’s created another Eve and she’s having twins.”

“Hi Pangarie, welcome to our humble web.”

Pangarie was about to ask Rebecca how she knew her name until she realised that the girl, (not much younger than herself) had obviously determined her name by telepathy. Rebecca sensed Pangarie’s discomfort and apologised.

“Sorry darling, please don’t be offended or feel I’ve invaded your thoughts. Your name is so fundamental to your sense of being that it radiates outwards as part of every female subconscious aura whether they are telepathic or not. Female telepaths can detect it.
Boys don’t radiate this, consequently their telepathy varies from ours, that’s why our dad had to introduce you to Ben. Us girls share a more intimate form of telepathy but we think it’s more fun. All importantly we can block our fellow telepaths out, but the boys can’t. We always know what the boys are thinking but they only know what we girls let them know.

Now that’s enough of the science and social graces. Let me congratulate you on carrying twins and especially as one of them is a boy. Boys are quite rare you see; we girls outnumber them about twenty to one.”

Pangarie listened avidly until Rebecca finished and asked her if she had any questions.

“Just one,” Pangarie replied. “Why the boy - girl discrepancy in numbers and why the differences in your telepathy. Does that make boys special or superior in any way?”

“No.” Rebecca replied quite simply. “It just makes the social fabric of the web more stable. Boy’s tend to ‘wander’ and by fertilizing nontel ‘eves’ like you they can grow our telepathic community much faster. It’s a bit like elephant herds but in a telepathic spectrum. The matriarchies run the clans while the patriarchs tend to spread it around a bit more. Though boys do tend to stick closer to their full-blood sisters’ clans, telepathically that is. Geographically, boys can spread all over the planet and that’s the beauty of it. They provide the bones of the telepathic web.

Pangarie digested this information thoughtfully.

“And all this goes on undetected within the normal human society?”

“Well some government agencies suspect that something’s going on but telepaths know they would be in danger if any of them revealed it so we never admit to anything.”

“Do telepathic girls have telepathic babies by ordinary males.”

“Yes, every time. Telepathy’s a dominant gene.”

“So eventually –?” Pangarie let the question hang.

Rebecca confirmed that eventually, the whole of humanity would be telepathic.

“That would be a good thing I think.”

“Well, a lot fewer misunderstandings and therefore a lot fewer wars.” Rebecca opined. “So d’ you want to meet some of your twins’ future cousins?”

“I’d love to.”

After Iona excused herself from proceedings because she was tired, Ben and Rebecca took Pangarie on a telepathic ‘grand tour’. It was early evening when she finally ‘returned’ to find Iona cooking the last rabbit stew.

“So, are we returning back to civilisation tomorrow?” Pangarie asked.

“Are you ready to. Maybe one last dream time here at your shrine?”

Pangarie nodded before affirming as a joyous tear glistened in her eye.

“Yes, I’d like dads’ spirit to know I’m with child and his grandchildren will prosper.”

“Then we tell your mum and your aunt. Vocally that is. They don’t need to know their grandchildren are telepathic.”

“I wish I could tell them; it would reassure them about our clan’s future.”

“They’ll realise the future is good for the clan when they learn that your children are attending school and yet able to enter the dream time. In touch with the spirits in a very real and palpable sense. Oh! And another thing, provided the security agencies don’t mess with me, I’ll be staying in Australia and I might meet a couple of white girls to spread the genes. But I’ll always be around for your kids. Come on, let’s turn in. I must be turning into an Australian cos I’m beginning to feel the cold.”

Pangarie grinned, fingered the growing lumps in her womb, and unfolded the sleeping bag.