from the depths 2

        Saplings swayed in the west wind. An arrow flitted  into the tossing foliage. Hyram Pratt hissed with delight as the third sapling fell. He imagined himself striking the magical flesh of the Green Man. He loved the stealth and silence of the well-crafted arrow. He used only the best. Archery was expensive. Errant arrows, however, could sometimes be retrieved, unlike spent bullets.
        Quite pleased with himself, he decided to fish a stream not far from the Hoffman homestead, using the lure purchased from The Potlatch. It resembled a Mayfly.


                                                                                     *


        Earlier, during the night, at Tule Lake, Artie and Leah made love in his trusty neophrene igloo.
        As soon as he entered her she sighed with pleasure. Neither were very experienced. Yet each was obsessed with delighting the other, slowly and vigorously. When she cried out she was answered by the screech owl in the woods.
        "Artie!"
        He filled her profusely. Feeling grand, accomplished.
        When he withdrew she was weeping.
        "What's wrong?"
        "Nothing is wrong."
        They lay like Adam and Eve, strong, still innocent.


                                                                                             *


       "So, how was the Petite Mort?" Cherry Blossom quizzed with a rascal's wink. Serving them her helium flapjacks.
       Leah blushed, adding to her morning glow.
       "Pretty good," Artie asnwered, pouring Log Cabin over his stack.
       Mister Zig-Zag was writing in his botanical log book. He announced: "If anyone wants to, I would like to check out some Baker's Cypress near here."
        "Sure," Artie replied, thinking such action would absolve them all of the crime they had perpetrated upon Leah at the Energy Vortex.
        "Great," Mister Zig-Zag smiled beneath his Wyatt Earp moustache. "Also known as Modoc Cypress and Siskiyou Cypress."
         "Ziggy, you went to college. Right?" Leah asked.
         "Yup. Flunked the Math though." Frowning, then adding, "Still gonna be a Horticulturist. Somehow."
         "Tell me the Latin name."
         "Hah! Cupressus bakeri!"



                                                                                       *


         Disgusted, Hiram Pratt chucked the Mayfly lure. His mood was dark as a thunderhead as he climbed into the Yukon. Brazenly he drove within a hundred yards of the site where Artie, Leah, Mister Zig-Zag and Cherry Blossom planned to build a saltbox house. Like a dog, he pissed the territory.