Shrill wails carried across the expanse of the Badlands, keeping Larue awake. The oppressively loud snoring coming from inside of the trailer didn’t help either. It sounded like Wakinyan and Basil were competing to shake the trailer off its blocks. At first Larue had wondered how Birdie could sleep through the racket, but halfway through the night Larue heard a third, albeit lighter, snoring joined the cacophony of sounds. Larue shook her head and lay back watching the starts. The light from the fire she had built illuminated the trailer and casted shadows on the ground in front of her. She was warm and comfortable despite the cool night. Camping out like this reminded her of her younger years laying under the North Dakota stars. It also reminded her of sadder times. The wails seemed to be getting closer, but not close enough to cause concern. Being near Wakinyan meant safety. There were very few people or things that would willing get within a mile of him.

Just before dawn Larue heard the loudest of the sonorous snores stop. She surmised that the Wakinyan was waking up. Ten minutes later Larue heard his heavy feet stomping down the stairs of his trailer steps. She sat up and saw him come over to the fire with a metal kettle, cups, and coffee in hand. She silently watched him set the kettle to boil over the dying fire and sit down next two her. There was no need for greetings between them. Even though they had spent many years apart, they easily fell into the rhythm that had been their life together. They didn’t speak. Instead they simply enjoyed being in each other’s presence. Regardless of how she felt about her adoptive father and her exile, she still missed him. Wakinyan only got up when the kettle whistled. He fixed two cups of terrible coffee and walked back over. He noticed Larue shiver, so he placed a blanket around her shoulders before handing her a cup and sitting back down. Together they sipped their coffees and watched the sun slowly rise.

“You still make terrible coffee,” Larue told him, breaking the silence first. She smiled down at her cup.

Wakinyan laughed. “I know. That’s why I always had you do it.”

Father and daughter fell into silence again, but it was comfortable. Larue thought about what she wanted to tell him and how she wanted to say it. When she went to speak no words came out. She simply didn’t know where to start. Luckily for her, Wakinyan spoke.

“I didn’t want you to stay away as long as you did. I never wanted you to have to rely on old magic.”

Larue’s ears were pointing downward. “I was angry. I wanted to punish you as much as you had punished me.”

“You know why I did it though, right?” Wakinyan asked.

“I know,” Larue started, “but I wanted revenge. For what they did to my mother. For what they did to me. For my father leaving.”

“You could have come back. It was only supposed to be 20 years.”

“I could have, but I didn’t. At first it was because I finally had the freedom to do what I wanted. Then it was because I was ashamed.”

“You know you have to stop, right? If you continue you will die.”

Larue nodded, pulling the blanket closer in around her shoulders. “I am well aware, but I can’t stop. That’s why I came. If I help bring magic back I won’t need it.”

Wakinyan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing Larue in close. “I’m afraid for you. Afraid that you might not make it long enough to bring magic back. I’m sorry that I cannot do this for you.”

“I will be fine,” she told him. “I’ve made over a hundred years. I can make it for one more.”

In truth, Larue wasn’t entirely sure that was the case. However, it made her feel better to think and speak positively. Wakinyan brought her in tighter so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. They stayed that way for a while until, thirty minutes after dawn, a second snoring voice stopped. Basil exited the trailer with messy hair and clear eyes. He fixed a cup of coffee before sitting next to Larue and his uncle. He greeted them both with a smile.

“Good morning,” he thought to them both. Surprisingly, they both responded simultaneously with morning greetings.

“Is Birdie still dead to the world?” Larue asked him with a smirk. She would probably sleep all day if the let her.

“Yeah,” he responded, “I’ll wake her up after a drink my coffee. There’s a good chance she might try to punch me in the face.”

“She seems like a wily one,” Wakinyan said.

“Oh yeah,” Basil confirmed. “Just wait until she wakes up.”

“She’s like the walking dead,” Larue explained.

Basil finished his coffee a short time later and got up to wake up Birdie. Larue moved from her father’s side to fix Birdie a cup of coffee and grab some food from her bag. She handed two biscuits and ham to Wakinyan and fixed the same thing for herself. They started eating as Basil came out of the trailer again, this time accompanied by an unhappy Birdie. Larue handed her coffee and food before sitting down. Wakinyan had to admit that Larue’s assessment was correct: the girl did move like the undead. There was silence until all of them finished their food.

“So…,” Wakinyan started. He spoke aloud for Birdie and thought for Basil. “How much did your mother tell you about why you’re here?”

“Nothing, just that we had to come to you in her place,” Birdie answered.

Wakinyan let out a deep sign and ran his fingers through his hair. His sister always left the dirty work to him. He bet that she didn’t even tell these kids about him or his brothers until it was absolutely necessary.

“You are here because magic is dying everywhere,” he stated.

Basil grew confused. “But my sister and I have plenty of magic, you’re powerful, and Larue can do incredible things. That can’t be right.”

Birdie was silent, content in taking in the rest of the conversation in silence. Basil made sure to sign so that she didn’t have to listen to a one-side conversation.

“You don’t notice the lack of true magic in this world because of your mother,” Wakinyan started. “She has so much more power than you could ever know, and she passed some of it on to you. But even she isn’t at full strength. I am not at full strength. Soon we will be in the same position as every other magical being in this country: dying. Without magic it will feel like we are being strangled slowly.”

“But what about Larue? She’s not your child and she’s fine.”

Wakinyan paused, not knowing how to answer. Larue spoke up. “I…supplement. What I do with teeth and bones increases my powers significantly.”

“Lack of magic is what has led to the dead of magical creatures, shifters losing their bond spirits, and gods reverting to old magic,” Wakinyan told them. “If it’s not brought back everyone will be affected. Even humans.”

“That’s what were here for? To bring back magic? How the hell are we supposed to do that?” Basil asked.

“Not you and your sister specifically. You two are not capable of doing that.”

“Then who?” Birdie chimed in.

“You are going to beseech the creator on our behalf,” Wakinyan explained.

“Creator?”

“Wankan Tanka, the Great Mystery,” Larue answered. “Maker of the universe, father and mother to gods, goddesses, and magical creatures alike.”

“Guider of men and banisher of children,” Wakinyan supplied. “They are the creator of Thunderbirds, but also the reason for our banishment.”

“Why?”

“So that there would never be anyone able to call them after they left this plane and closed the Heaven’s Gate in North America.”

Birdie looked to be deep in thought. “So, all four Thunderbirds need to be in the same place to go to Wankan Tanka, but they banished you so that all four of you can never be in the same place at the same time.”

“Correct.”

“Doesn’t that leave us at an impasse?” Birdie asked.

“Not necessarily,” Larue said looking at her father, “not four beings who happened to have the blood of Thunderbirds took their place and went to a Heaven’s Gate that hasn’t been closed, right?”

Wakinyan grinned. His daughter had always been smart. “Our children can take our place.”

“Well, my sister and I make two, but does Larue make three?” Basil asked.

“Yes,” Wakinyan said looking at his daughter. “She is not my blood, but she has my blood.”

“Not of your blood but has your blood?”

“My tattoo,” Larue explained, “unlike yours, mine is made entirely of his blood. It protects me, but also marks me as his child despite my blood.”

“Okay,” Birdie said. “Who’s the fourth?”

“That would be Takoda’s child, Bhekumbuso,” Wakinyan replied.

Larue made a face. She’d only met him once, but he wasn't really her favorite.

“After all four of you are gathered, you will need to find a guide,” Wakinyan continued.

‘What’s the guide for?”

“The North American Gate is closed, however, there are a couple in Asia that are still open. Bhekumbuso will probably know someone that can take you.”

“Where do we find Bhekumbuso?” Birdie asked.

Larue sighed. “Harlem.”