I had originally conceived of doing the sequels to Of The Sunset World from the point-of-view of the 21st Century time-travelers, with prologues, interludes and epilogues from Three-Rivers’ perspective. By the time I was done the epilogue below I gave into the kid and decided to let him hijack most of Sunset Saga.

Below is the short Epilogue to Comes the Six Winter Night that was expanded into the novel Thunderboy. Three-Rivers’ best friend, time-traveler Jay Bracken, who he calls Bluebird and believes to be possessed by a demon named DeathSong, has gone missing, believed by his fellow time-travelers to be suffering from ‘time-travel reintegration psychosis’. Three-Rivers is a handicapped 16th Century teenager with a messiah complex who believes himself to be possessed by the ghost of his father, an Iroquois prophet. The portrait of Three-Rivers that emerged in the writing of Thunderboy was far more obnoxious and manipulative [PG14] than the G-rated version below.

Three-Rivers woke from a terror in the House of The Sunset Lady.

This should not happen. The terrors are a thing of Mother Earth Past. You sleep among powerful and loving protectors and your weak and innocent companions look to you for wisdom and grow stronger with every setting of the sun beyond this grandfather of skies.

Yes, the terrors must reflect the aguish of Bluebird; he is lost and his spirit calls out—and you are his medicine-man.

The terror had involved DeathSong—with Bluebird trapped helplessly inside—hunting for enemies in the dark places of Sunset. A picture of a great desolate city of Sunset; gray with age, flecked with snow and half-abandoned, had dominated the bad dream. DeathSong had taken Bluebird to this wasteland, though Bluebird wanted only to return to Picture Woman. Perhaps Bluebird retained some influence over his demon because they were travelling in the direction of Picture Woman. However DeathSong had decided to live on a cold stone, from where it appeared he would be hunting burnt men—hopefully not for food!

Three-Rivers was suddenly worried for his lost friend, and was stricken with guilt as well, for he had not prayed for Bluebird or the furious demon who possessed him before laying down to sleep last night.

You are a wrong-eyed medicine-man for certain. You know that DeathSong must have regained possession of Bluebird when he journeyed with Eddie to the World of Winter Past. Also, wrong-eyed boy, it must be quite obvious even to you that Bluebird’s failure to return to we, his beloved friends, is a clear indication that DeathSong has retained possession over him. Somewhere, wrong-eyed boy, on this desolate grandfather of worlds, wanders your friend, alone and possessed…

Find him son. Be Fox on the trail of Wolf.

Yes Father. I have learned the ways of Sunset. I have journeyed within house-boats, thunderbirds, and within even the most-lowly of thunderbeasts. I know the look-down pictures called maps and have rocked within the belly of the Big Medicine Bus. I will seek him out Father. Bless your guiding hand, and may you remain at peace within the Place of Grandfathers.

He was up like a shot, even pretending not to notice the pain in his back—although there was no one to see his pain. His people here loved him, so he would leave a note to explain his absence, but could not risk their refusal for his journey. It was too important, and, not being medicine-men, as wise as they might be, they could not understand…

Three-Rivers was in possession of mucho money—many hundreds of dollars, and also the card of money that gave one the power to command the magical money-spitting beasts called ATM. Money was not unlike wampum. Money was beautifully wrought and told stories, and could be used in place of trade goods for bartering.

Imagine how many baskets of corn you would have to haul to match the money in your wallet! Money is wonderful! This money is probably the smartest thing that the Sunset People have done.

As he sat in the waiting place for the far-journeying bus-masters he considered the curious thing called I.D., which was his mark of belonging to Sunset. It was a remembrance totem of oneself that a person carried as proof that they were of the Greater Sunset Nation called America. It specified his tribe as Maryland and even gave the location of his sleeping platform in case he lost his I.D. and someone needed to return it to him. There was also his secret number which he was not supposed to give out. This was a number by which the Masters of Sunset identified people in the language of the picture dreaming devices called computer. He liked the magic of computers and their little brothers called cell. He had pictures of all of his friends on his cell. This enabled him to look at their likeness while he prayed for them and said secret blessings on their behalf. His I.D. picture had been taken, at his insistence, in his ceremonial attire, complete with the owl and goose-bone vest of far-feeling.

His guardian, the awesome Sunset Lady Tina, had argued with him about the vest. She could not beat him in arguments though. He was immune to her powers of seduction and persuasion that she wielded with such ease over others. Although The Great Lady was his patron and he loved her, it had been his duty to subjugate her. He did not like to think in such harsh terms. But it was a medicine-man’s responsibility to control his relationships with others, particularly powerful people. For this reason he had been compelled to, and had solemnly, before God The Beginner, made Tina his ‘bitch’ according to the hip-hop dialect, thus establishing his ‘street cred’ among the ladies, chiefs and warriors alike. Even Crazy Brother Badwater, called Randy, respected him for this.

Lady Tina will be angry over your unexpected absence wrong-eyed boy. Well, she shall just have to get over it then. Take a picture Tina, it will last longer! I’m off on the Long Medicine Bus, for I hear the Bus Master calling my destination, and Lady Doe-Eye surely needs her hair combed. I shall pray for you tonight Sunset Lady, and I shall return to you come the Budding of Flowers, as I explained in my note. Re-read it and you might feel less frustrated…

He had been unsure of DeathSong’s destination, other than the facts from his dream which pointed to Sunset by Winter. So he had asked the very sensible matron behind the counter of obtaining bus passage, “Matron Kendra, what is the most evil place beyond the Ohio country?”

The lady thought for a moment and responded in hushed tones, as if the very Masters of Sunset were listening in—and perhaps they are medicine-man, perhaps they are, “I would have to say Detroit is the worst city in America west of Baltimore.”

So Detroit it was: a dirty, desolate, place of winter where a flesh-demon might go to hunt unloved people. This Sunset medicine-man is headed into the setting sun, in the belly of this perfect rolling beast, in search of the damned in a place of dead hopes. Select a seat next to the window; yes behind the fat man with hanging face-hair of wisdom. Perhaps he will have clues. Perhaps he has seen Bluebird and DeathSong. Acknowledge him as an elder, “Greetings elder dude, sweet-bus-of-joy to you.”

“Same to you young man.”

The elder then extended his hand in the way of warriors greeting, “Archie’s the name, Archie son, en pleased to meet you.”

“Name’s Three-Rivers. Pleased to meet you elder Archie dude.”

“Three-Rivers? Yep, that’s my stop; headed to Pittsburgh.”

The man’s voice trailed off wistfully as he looked out the window and the Bus Master spoke to them through the bus’ ears as he guided his mighty beast onto the thundertrail.

The Beginner surely sent this wise man to accompany you on the first leg of your journey. Your venture is sanctified. Relax and watch the wounded world pass by as you roll on in the belly of the beast. Picture Mother Earth as she was. Heal her in your Mind’s Eye at least…

I’m coming for your Bluebird. I’ll make your Fury subside…and in the meantime, please don’t eat anyone. I promised Father on your behalf.