Read Online How Not to Date a Skunk by Stephanie Burke - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephanie Burke
Tags: Romance, Paranormal
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dance, and offering him a hand up. The younger sneered at the hand for a moment, before he accepted and rose gracefully to his feet.
And Bilana found herself exhaling quietly, her finger sliding off the shutter button. She had been taking photos the whole time and forgot she was doing it, so entranced with the dance was she.
Then, before she could lower the camera, a small group of people was ushered in. She watched as the younger man left the circle of battle and the people who entered took seats around the ring.
There was a mixed bag, to be sure. There were young women who looked to be in their teens. There were young warriors dressed in regalia and face paint of their own.
And there was a group of obviously pregnant ladies who all eagerly took seats in the ring.
As she watched, the younger man returned, handing the elder a round, warrior’s shield of white leather edged in black fur. The elder nodded and took the shield carefully in his left hand. After he had settled the shield securely in his grasp, the younger warrior handed him a long, thin pipe of wood.
Bilana nearly crowed in excitement! She had never seen such a beautiful example of a Dakota pipe in her life. It was made of a red stone called catlinite. Its tube was about three feet long, and the bowl a classic T shape. Wrapped along half its length, from the bowl to the center of the pipe itself, was what appeared to be copper wire. And along the back of that wire was tied the same luxuriant fur that covered the elder warrior’s regalia.
She watched as the warrior carefully took the pipe in hand before turning to the people in the circle.
The younger warrior left the ring and quickly returned with a double-sided round drum. The drum was only a few inches thick and was covered in a thin skin.
There was not much decoration on this drum, and Bilana could tell it was old, probably handed down from generation to generation, as evidenced by the darkening patina that covered the hollow frame. Its beaded black handle fit perfectly around the younger warrior’s hand as he took a seat near the center of the circle and began to pound out a slow beat.
The elder, now complete with his dancing items, dipped low to the ground and rose up on his toes, spinning gracefully as his feet matched the beat that filled the tent.
Bilana could feel her heart race as the speed of the drumming increased. And the elder, like the consummate professional he appeared to be, kept pace. He dipped low and spun in circles, emulating an animal she still could not place. He spun on his toes, he stomped his feet, and never dropped his shield or his pipe, instead using them to emphasize certain movements.
As he spun and danced, the people in the circle began to chant softly, swaying in time to the beat of the drums.
Soon he was approaching each and every member, nodding and waving his pipe over them, giving each of them a very public private moment, before moving on to the next.
Bilana was still snapping photos of the dancer and his graceful movements, her heart racing as a strange scent began to fill the air. She inhaled, finding herself liking the woodsy, musky scent. In fact it was becoming more and more desirable to her. She inhaled again, feeling her nipples tighten into hard buds. Her breathing was becoming labored, and suddenly she felt her blood heat in her veins.
She tried to get a closer look at the dancer, but his fast movements prevented her.
Finally, after a few moments that felt like hours, the drum stopped. She strained her hearing, wanting the beat to continue, feeling bereft as the deep, hollow sound came to a halt, but there was no more music to be had.
As silently as they entered, the people exited the ring.
Two elders, dressed in beautiful regalia of their own, entered the ring. The younger warrior came forward and took the shield and the pipe and exited quietly. But this time the older dancer followed, the two elders bringing up the rear.
Just as fast as they
And Bilana found herself exhaling quietly, her finger sliding off the shutter button. She had been taking photos the whole time and forgot she was doing it, so entranced with the dance was she.
Then, before she could lower the camera, a small group of people was ushered in. She watched as the younger man left the circle of battle and the people who entered took seats around the ring.
There was a mixed bag, to be sure. There were young women who looked to be in their teens. There were young warriors dressed in regalia and face paint of their own.
And there was a group of obviously pregnant ladies who all eagerly took seats in the ring.
As she watched, the younger man returned, handing the elder a round, warrior’s shield of white leather edged in black fur. The elder nodded and took the shield carefully in his left hand. After he had settled the shield securely in his grasp, the younger warrior handed him a long, thin pipe of wood.
Bilana nearly crowed in excitement! She had never seen such a beautiful example of a Dakota pipe in her life. It was made of a red stone called catlinite. Its tube was about three feet long, and the bowl a classic T shape. Wrapped along half its length, from the bowl to the center of the pipe itself, was what appeared to be copper wire. And along the back of that wire was tied the same luxuriant fur that covered the elder warrior’s regalia.
She watched as the warrior carefully took the pipe in hand before turning to the people in the circle.
The younger warrior left the ring and quickly returned with a double-sided round drum. The drum was only a few inches thick and was covered in a thin skin.
There was not much decoration on this drum, and Bilana could tell it was old, probably handed down from generation to generation, as evidenced by the darkening patina that covered the hollow frame. Its beaded black handle fit perfectly around the younger warrior’s hand as he took a seat near the center of the circle and began to pound out a slow beat.
The elder, now complete with his dancing items, dipped low to the ground and rose up on his toes, spinning gracefully as his feet matched the beat that filled the tent.
Bilana could feel her heart race as the speed of the drumming increased. And the elder, like the consummate professional he appeared to be, kept pace. He dipped low and spun in circles, emulating an animal she still could not place. He spun on his toes, he stomped his feet, and never dropped his shield or his pipe, instead using them to emphasize certain movements.
As he spun and danced, the people in the circle began to chant softly, swaying in time to the beat of the drums.
Soon he was approaching each and every member, nodding and waving his pipe over them, giving each of them a very public private moment, before moving on to the next.
Bilana was still snapping photos of the dancer and his graceful movements, her heart racing as a strange scent began to fill the air. She inhaled, finding herself liking the woodsy, musky scent. In fact it was becoming more and more desirable to her. She inhaled again, feeling her nipples tighten into hard buds. Her breathing was becoming labored, and suddenly she felt her blood heat in her veins.
She tried to get a closer look at the dancer, but his fast movements prevented her.
Finally, after a few moments that felt like hours, the drum stopped. She strained her hearing, wanting the beat to continue, feeling bereft as the deep, hollow sound came to a halt, but there was no more music to be had.
As silently as they entered, the people exited the ring.
Two elders, dressed in beautiful regalia of their own, entered the ring. The younger warrior came forward and took the shield and the pipe and exited quietly. But this time the older dancer followed, the two elders bringing up the rear.
Just as fast as they
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