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288 pages, Paperback
First published March 26, 2001
همهی حاضران به دور ما حلقه میزنند و هماهنگ با من ضرب میگیرند. چشمهایمان را بستهایم و گلوهایمان را منقبض کردهایم. با صدای تیز میخوانیم و محکم طبل میزنیم. برای اوچک، روح لیندا میخوانیم. صداهایمان را بالا بردهایم تا روح او را از بدن خاموشش بلند کنیم و تحت حفاظت خویشاوندانش به استراحتگاهش بفرستیم. - برداشت آزاد از کتاب
I will count coup on you, Painted Tongue hummed. The tones of his war chant came to him. I will take a knife and cut your scalp from your skull for calling me Iroquois. I will rip your ears from your head and eat them in front of you. He let his head drop, dangling the bottle. The boys backed away a little.
Lookit that! He's got attitude, one of them shouted as they formed a circle on the sidewalk around him.
Painted Tongue began to pace slowly around the inside of the circle. He felt a warrior's control suddenly, all eyes upon him, watching closely his every move. When Painted Tongue walked by one of the boys, he stared at the boy's eyes until he recognized the wolf spider of fear in them. He walked carefully, slowly by their feet, watching their faces pass his. The boys widened the ring. Painted Tongue concentrated on his own feet moving. He picked up the pace. He could hear the pound of drum in his head. The boys began clapping in time. Check it out, one said. He's on the warpath.
Painted Tongue reached out and touched each boy as he passed. He counted coup upon every single one in the group and watched the look of shame and disgust on their faces as they shrank away from his outstretched hand. He was happy. He was a warrior. He moved faster, bent far forward, lifting his knees high. He closed his eyes and danced the circle. It was effortless, like a strong wind lifting him up and carrying him.
This was Noah's chance. He pulled the stocking he'd carefully painted in the bright colours of the butterfly from his coat pocket and pulled it over his head, adjusting it so he could see through the little holes he'd cut for eyes. He tore off his coat and kicked off his jeans to reveal the costume he'd created, ran from his seat and pulled himself onto the side of the ring. He quickly scrambled up the ropes and balanced himself on the top turnbuckle, lifting his arms wide to reveal the cape he'd painted orange and red and green, the wings of the butterfly. His wings. "I'm doing it" was all he could think. His ears were filled with the roar and rush of his blood, with the butterflies whispering to him, "You're doing it!" Beneath his cape Noah wore another pair of his mother's pantyhose, these ones black like a butterfly's body, and pulled up to his chest.
For the first time he could hear the crowd. He could make out Thomas' and Gerald's voices in the shouting. Some of the women screamed. Others were laughing with excitement. Noah looked across the ring at the awestruck face of Kid Wikked. He raised his arms higher for the crowd to drink in his costume and shouted, "I am Butterfly Warrior!"
With his back still to Noah, Diesel Machine was still completely unaware of his presence. Noah looked down at Chief Thunderbolt. The Chief looked surprised. He slowly, haltingly raised his arm from the mat and gave Noah a thumbs-up. Noah tensed, then leapt.