Page 4 of The Hummingbird’s Gift

That made sense. He stepped back and waited for Rohahen to shift.

“Um, Tier, er, Chief. Could you, um, get the ties for me?”

The ties? Oh. Tier felt his face burn, glad that his bronzed skin would cover most of it. “No problem.”

He traced his hand up Rohahen’s broad back, keeping his hands light on the fabric when really he wanted to touch that mahogany skin again. He released the bow at Rohahen’s neck and then the one at his back.

Rohahen tugged off the gown and handed it to him, then opened the drawstring of the pants and let them fall to the ground.

Tier looked away automatically. People stripped to shift all the time, and often held conversations naked when fast shifts were necessary. But it was polite to turn away or look only at their faces.

Tier peeked anyway.

Rohahen’s legs were thick and powerful, his belly and chest sturdy and broad. His cock hung long and heavy between his legs, darker than the surrounding skin.

Tier looked to the ground, but he was captivated by Rohahen’s feet stepping out of the hospital pants, the soles a deliciously pale contrast to the rest of his skin.

Why was Rohahen another strength-sharer? Or really why did they both have to be? Though in all honesty, when Tier gave in to his most secret fantasies he was the only one who embodied that role.

Rohahen would make a perfect heart-singer. It was a thought that he’d had more than once, though he would never say it aloud. It wouldn’t quite be disrespectful so much as strange. His twisted dreams that made Rohahen into something he wasn’t for his own selfish desires.

And one day, Tier would have to rely on someone else. The heart-singer he married was supposed to balance Tier’s own impulses, as well as supporting the tribe. He’d been leaning on Rohahen for far too long, bouncing between his grandfather and Rohahen when he needed a moment of respite and guidance.

He got so lost in the morose thoughts that he almost missed Rohahen’s shift. In a few rolling waves of skin and fur, a bison stood before him.

Rohahen’s bison was a gorgeous animal with thick, dark fur surrounding his head and hanging down almost to his thickly furred feet. The coarse hairs were lighter on his back, covering the large hump and puffing out around his round belly.

He looked robust, a symbol of health, life, and abundance.

Tier breathed out a relieved sigh.

Rohahen bent to munch a few mouthfuls of grass, then swung around toward Tier. If any other animal who was at least a dozen times his weight and sporting horns that could gore him through had approached him like this, Tier would have moved slowly and carefully out of the way.

Instead he stood his ground while Rohahen came closer, and eventually dipped his head under Tier’s hand.

With shaking fingers, Tier stroked down one horn and then dug his fingers into the coarse fur to scratch around his ears. Like touching Rohahen’s human back earlier, this was another special first.

He’d seen Rohahen’s bison before, even brushed past him in his own white-tailed deer form. But this was the first time he’d been invited to touch.

Rohahen let out a pleased snort. He still couldn’t believe that he’d almost lost him. He dug his fingers in deeper, the wiry hair thick around his fingers.

“It looks like he’s fine,” the nurse observed. “I’ll be inside if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Tier called automatically.

After eating a few more mouthfuls of grass, Rohahen sank down to the ground, his front legs nearly buried under his head and his hips twisted to the side with one leg protruding.

Was he still weak? Should Tier call the nurse?

Tier felt his throat warm as Rohahen sent a thought to him. Shift?

It wasn’t a command, though the bison shifter had the power to make it one. It was more of a hesitant and hopeful request. Tier was surprised that he could feel such complex emotion from the exchange. Usually strength-sharers broadcast concrete ideas, and any residual emotions were simple things like a sense of danger or alertness, focused on attacking a threat.

Tier gave the furry ear under his hand one more careful scratch. He looked alert and relaxed. And mostly interested in having Tier’s hands in his fur.

Tier slipped out of his own clothes, leaving them in a pile on the lawn. He couldn’t deny Rohahen anything.

After a disorienting moment of vertigo and an extended stretch, Tier stood on four thin legs. His vision became fuzzy, picking up yellows and blues in the panorama that wrapped most of the way around his head, while the reds faded to gray. Scent came to him like a symphony, like a critical part of the world had been missing and snapped into place.