"A Meeting of Minds" Log Date: 6/6, 6/9/02 Log Cast: Wayfound, Tefin Log Intro: Ever since she first grew conscious of herself as a cubling at the Willowholt, Wayfound has known that her patterns of thought differed from those who surrounded her. Her tribe was never cruel, but they never did seem to understand her passionate desire to absorb every possible granule of knowledge about her surroundings that she could -- but later, when her Holt was destroyed and her displaced tribesmates spent time among the Gliders of Blue Mountain, she learned that to elves of pure blood, a Wolfrider with a reasoning mind was almost tantamount to a performing treewee. Grown to adulthood, she has wandered alone across the land, and only her chance discovery of the strange humans from the land called Vrae somewhere far across the Vastdeep Water has provoked her into staying put for a time -- her hunger for knowledge continually satisfied by these odd Tall Ones, with whom she has now spent moons in companionship, coming to realize that for all the fears that her kind has had about them, it is indeed possible for humans and elves to exist together in peace. But she knows also that the elders of Lostholt, both those native to that tribe and those who were once of Willowholt, may well be far less inclined to look upon these new humans kindly... and thus has she been quite reluctant to set out again to Lostholt, where she has not been in ten turns of the seasons, to tell them of what she has discovered. But as chance would have it, the fact that Wayfound has delayed her return to her tribe is about to bring her a shock almost as great as that of her discovery of the Vraeyans: the existence of another elf whose mind seems to work like _hers_.... ---------- Shoreline near the Shoaltail River The path here is wooded and dark, yet never silent -- to the north, you can hear the loud rushing of the Shoaltail River. You know the deep waters are west of here, but tangled foliage blocks your view and passage that way. To the north you can see an opening of sort in the trees, and to the southeast the foliage breaks open onto a beach clearing. The starry outlines of the Human Hunter begin to come out as the dimming red light of sunset fills the cool autumn skies. Contents: Tefin Pile of Fronds (#7989JUVt) Obvious exits: To the River To the Beach The human encampment to the southwest isn't exactly hard to miss, if you're an elf. Wayfound has grown accustomed to it, and has even come to find it pleasant to study after many moons of being in the area, learning from the strange ocean-going humans and their wordgiver, Arnos... but there are times when she simply _must_ be alone. After over ten years of personal solitude, this Wolfrider of Lostholt is _still_ unaccustomed to gatherings of any great size, and friendly though the Tall Ones of Vrae might be... they're all still humans. They tower over her. Their voices, in their earthy good cheer, boom loud enough to occasionally rattle her ears, and the gregarious slaps they often give her on the shoulder after she exchanges more words with them are almost enough to send her toppling. The humans are on her mind tonight -- they, and the differences between their kind and her own. How well will Lostholt take it, when she goes back to speak to the elves that are _supposed_ to be her tribe, to tell them they are new humans in the land? Tonight, banishing even her loyal Preserver and her wolf-friend from her presence, Wayfound broods alone on the river's shoreline. And bathes. True, the human encampment isn't hard to miss, if one knew what to look for. But, if one was totally unaware of the humans and, about as stealthy as a rock rolling down a hill covered in clay jars, it's a totally different story. He's not THAT loud, of course, but if one knows what to listen for, you can defintely hear someone coming along the beach. And this is where Tefin comes in...trudging down the beach with his pack slung over his shoulder, looking for a place to camp for the evening... Instinct rises up -- and says 'hide'. With wolf-blood in her veins, Wayfound is not immune to the pull of instinct. But reason is a far greater influence upon her most of the time, and even as she goes still in the water, as silent as only a Wolfrider can, her mind seizes instantly upon what her senses have to tell her. The tread -- too light to be a human's. Surejumper, furthermore, has not given voice; the wolf may be out of sight, but he is not out of range of howling. And the scent is her kind. So is the shape. Lambent ambergreen eyes pick him out, and once she marks his location, reason wins out over instinct. She does not need to lunge for the spear she's left within grabbing distance, on the bank with her leathers, so far as she can observe. And so she turns to duck her pale mop of hair into the river one last time, waiting to see whether the stranger will pass nearer; if so, she'll decide what to do, then. Left, right, left, right...Tefin trudges slowly along the beach, sidestepping driftwood and shells that are scattered about haphazardly after the last storm. A stream trickles from the woods...He looks along it and decides that, hey, why not, he'll follow it. Besides...fresh water and a not-so-exposed campsite is a good thing these days. The sounds of the water overpower any senses he may have about him as he makes his way along the bank, stopping at the edge of still ool... Wayfound straightens up out of the water again, shoving water-heavy hair back from her face into a mass which she may grasp with both hands. As she squeezes excess droplets from it, she calls out, just soft enough to not carry far, just loud enough to carry as far as is necessary, "Good evening." If an elf walking could screech to a halt, Tefin does it right then. Glancing around frantically before catching sight of you silohuetted in the moonlight, hee breathes a sigh of relief. "High ones, don't sneak up on me like that." he says a bit too loud for what is required. It is not easy to take Wayfound aback. However, the stranger on the shoreline succeeds, and her pale brows quirk up over abruptly bemused eyes. "My apologies," she replies with gruff courtesy, "though I do not believe the activities in which I have been just now engaged qualify as 'sneaking'. Startlement was not intended; simply announcing myself. I beg your pardon." A sense of humor. That's an interesting find in these parts, from random bathing elves in the middle of the night. "Jus' startled me is all...didn't know what t' say." He lowers his pack to the ground and flops back against it, propping himself up in an image that shows total relaxation. "Name's Tefin. What's yours?" A sense of humor? Perhaps -- though given the earnest expression upon the face of the pale she-elf, it might have been an entirely unconscious jest. "I am called Wayfound," says she. Methodically, thoroughly, the Wolfrider continues to squeeze the water from her hair, rotating the bunched mass of tresses between her fingers; when she is done, she does it again, only this time with rotation in the opposite direction. This displaces a considerable amount of moisture out of her hair, and now she lets it fall in disarray about her face as she wades towards her leathers, sloughing excess water from her shoulders as she goes. "Nice t' meet ya, Wayfound." Tefin says with a slight wave. "Need a brush for that hair o' yours? I've got a spare if y' want some help." The he-elf, pale as you are, just sits and watches you as you wade closer, resting against his pack, and simply enjoying the view. If she has noticed Tefin's scrutiny, Wayfound gives no sign of it; indeed, most of her attention seems to be on simply drying herself off. What she cannot brush off her skin with her hands she dislodges simply by virtue of one of the few wolfish indulgences she'll allow herself: a single vigorous shake of her thin frame, enough to satisfy the niggle of instinct. That accomplished, she begins to pull on her leathers... and then seriously considers the offer of a brush, even as she'd been about to reach for the loose thong of leather she'd intended to pull the mess of her locks out of her line of sight. Her gaze swings back around to the Go-Back, considering... and then, slowly, she nods. "Thank you. That would be most kind. I had a comb, but I am afraid I lost it a year and a half ago, and I have not yet had the opportunity to fashion a replacement." Tefin is very blunt, as far as elves go. It's the way he was raised and he's really never found it worthwhile to learn the intricacies of subtlety. "Just let me dig the thing out, an' if you want me to, I'll do the combin' out for you. I've done it enough when takin' care of the fawns, an' they say I'm pretty good at it." he turns and roots around in the main portion of the pack, removing item after item before discovering his goal hidden halfway underneath a boot and some dried deer meat. "Here we go..elk bone comb." For the second time in one conversation, Wayfound finds herself taken aback. "Faw... ah," she murmurs, half to herself. A Go-Back word, that; combined with his style of dress and a comb crafted of an elk's bone, his lineage is easily deduced. That does not perplex her. What _does_ is the offer of having her hair attended, an offer she cannot recollect being made to her since she was a cub -- and Wayfound's memory is prodigious. "I..." she begins, and though the pause in her voice is small, it _is_ there, "... would appreciate the assistance... thank you. Do you require me to sit?" "Well, I can't fly, and you're a good few inches taller than me, so yea, if ya would sit in front of me it would make this a lot easier t' do." This is said with a slight grin and a teasing tone in his voice. "Good way f'r two people to get t' know each other, Wayfound." he says with a modicum of wisdom in his voice, the little that he'll ever spout, to be sure. "Even got a fur for you t' sit on if ya want." Tefin is an elven boy scout, it seems. Wayfound is not ill-stocked herself, when it comes to personal possessions; however, most of what she generally carries with her is not in easy distance. She gives the shorter elf another briefly bemused stare, aware of the grin, aware of the teasing in his tone; however, she cannot deny that he is making perfect sense. "The fur will not be necessary," she says then. "I am not inconvenienced by sitting upon the earth." Sit she does, deftly, her posture straight and alert even as it had been with her on her feet. As she does, though, she inquires, "You speak of the combing of others' hair, as a means of becoming acquainted?" Tefin nods and reaches over your shoulders to pull all of the frantic strands of hair back so he can get them better. "Yeah, like I said, when I did it with th' fawns in the lodge, they relaxed an' trusted me more. Guess that's a good thing when they call ya' "mom" ever since they first k'n talk." He chuckles a little to himself, trying to work on one of the less-tangled areas first before tackling the rest of it. "Not cold, are ya, wit' no boots on an' all?" Not that he minds of course... "I am not uncomfortable," the Wolfrider asserts simply, taking care of any issues of cold toes by tucking them into her knees. She falls silent for a moment, tilting her head slightly forward to give better access to her disheveled pale mop; she is not, however, silent for long. "Correct me if my knowledge is in error," she requests, "but is not the lodge of the Go-Back tribe a considerable distance north of here?" "Nope, you're right." He purses his lips a little as he works at a particularly nasty knot. "I've been hikin' for about the last two or three hands of days to get this far. Jus' wanted t' see the world outside of the lodge." Her hair is thick stuff, but fine -- and tangled considerably, at least beneath the outer layers of hair most easily reached by fingers standing in for a proper comb. Though her scalp is occasionally pulled, Wayfound makes no protest, merely subtly adjusting her stance and breathing to distract herself from the tiny tuggings. The conversation helps, for that matter. "I... see," she murmurs then, without looking up, and there's a note of something like sympathy in her somber voice. It comes out oddly, though, as if she cannot quite believe she is saying such a thing, perhaps. "There... is a great deal of world to observe." "Yeah.." he murmurs quietly, the comb stilling for a brief moment. "Every night when I go to bed, I think I've seen it all, and every morning when I wake up, there's something new to see." The comb starts it's rhythmic up and down motion again, halting only to pluck out a burr or work out a knot. "It's wonderful and terrible all at the same time. Wonderful 'cause I know that there's always gonna be somethin' new t' see, but terrible 'cause I know I'll never see it all b'fore I go back to the palace." Deep for a Go-Back. "You... are... pleased to observe the things that occur naturally, within the world?" The notion seems to startle Wayfound, and almost she turns her head to look up at the elf who stands behind her; in time, however, she remembers that her hair is still under the attentions of the comb. Still, though, her head remains ever so slightly turned, a pointed ear quirked slightly upward. Tefin nods a little and offers a grin when you turn to glance at him. "course I do. A mountain may sometimes just be a mountain, but I've seen sights that I may never see again, unless i'm lucky. The world is a beautiful place, it is, an' I've not seen enough of it yet. Mountains, glaciers, deserts, plateaus...rock formations that look like a tribe of elves chasing a troll...stars streaking through the sky...." He flushes a bit and the comb starts it's steady motion. "sorry. got carried away. For a few moments, Wayfound says nothing at all; she can't, for she is finding herself experiencing a state of abject shock. When she manages to speak again, she has gone slightly hoarse. "You... need not apologize in the slightest," she breathes. "I... am merely amazed. You are the first elf of my acquaintance... who has ever uttered such sentiments." Tefin rests his chin on your shoulder, looking over at you, "Why is it so shocking?" He asks before leaning back and continuing his quest for smooth hair. All at once unaccountably shy, Wayfound dips her head away from that informally curious chin and the voice in her ear... though this conveniently presents the rest of her hair for further setting to rights. Lowly, then, she admits, "I... was unaware that I was not unique in possessing these sentiments." The rest of her hair presented, Tefin continues on with the combing of her tangled locks, pondering what to say next. "Guess you aren't the only one who feels this way about th' outdoors. TEll me...did ya see that shower of stars about a hand of nights ago? Were you in awe of how beautiful it was too?" "I counted them," Wayfound says, very quietly, very hesitantly, as if she is unsure how this information will be received. "And strove to gauge their direction and rate of fall, sizes, and colors..." And with that, she trails off. Surely, she cannot be quite as fortunate as this chance encounter might suggest? This stranger of the Go-Backs might love the wild places, but she has yet to see an elf that sees the same great patterns of order that spring to her eye from everything in existence... and she is not expecting to see one now. "I gave up after a while and just watched...I couldn't count high enough. But they all seemed to be headint go where the daystar goes every night. He is silent for a time, his hand resting on your shoulder. "I saw a few blue ones, and even a red one or two...high ones, I hope to see something like that again." A smoft smile crosses his face as he starts...and finishes the combing process, deftly tying your hair with the scrap of leather that you were going to use. "I watched and the next morning, flowers grew..." As she feels her hair tied back, the Wolfrider finally turns her head to get a better look at the Go-Back, and though her expression is a habitually stoic one, her gaze has turned strangely unguarded. "Do you mean to tell me," she blurts, "that you not only observed many of the attributes of the star-shower, but also of the state of your surroundings the following morning?" Tefin nodnods as an answer, blinking slightly at the tone of suprise in your voice. "I did. Is that strange?" Is she actually gaping? Wayfound catches herself, clacking her teeth together with audible force, before she pulls in a breath to steady herself. Her gaze is riveted now upon Tefin's features, and she stares at him as if truly seeing him only just now. "Given that," she croaks, "I have to date encountered fewer than four elves who appear to share my interest in detailed observation of the world... I can only conclude that it does appear to be an odd passion indeed." Yes, she is gaping, and although Tefin is blunt, he does have a bit of manners in his tiny frame, so he does not mention it in the least. He offers a shy smile to her, cocking his head and turning it this way and that so she can get a good look at all of his features. "so you have encountered three elves, and me, who share your interest in nature's patterns?" "And a human," Wayfound must admit, and this too is offered uncertainly -- for this she-elf is more than aware of how most of her kind react to the Tall Ones. "And to a lesser extent, the Preserver who accompanies me, though I generally suspect that Fallberry does not truly understand most of what I endeavor to teach it..." Tefin says "A human? How interesting. From what I've been told, they're not very civilized, but the evidence I've seen from my travels says otherwise." It seems that Tefin is lapsing from go-back vernacular into some kind of educated speaking, very odd. Perhaps it is because of the company he is keeping now. "It is troublesome that they find us so disdainful, but that, sadly, cannot be helped."" "I don't suppose," Wayfound then, and her voice comes out almost choked with outright shock, "you have observed the campsite of humans and elves to the south of here, then?" Her brows knit together, and all at once she shoots to her feet, senses homing in on the shift in Tefin's speech patterns. They haven't escaped her. A wild flare of what can only be joyous amazement in her ambergreen eyes is now joined by equally distinct panic -- and she shoots a finger forward, spear-like, save that that slender digit seems intended for defense rather than offense, if the alarm rising in her expression is any indication. "Your patterns of speech are changing," she roughly blurts then, struggling now to hold to her composure. "Two-Spear's Madness...! If you are mocking me--" "I'm not mocking you...I'm not." Tefin says soothingly, remaining in his seat and looking up at you with a level gaze. "Which would be more logical; that I was an elf who, out of desire to tease someone who I am trying to become freiends with, falsely imitates her speech patterns and feigns interest in what she is interested in, or that I am actually what I claim to be. That I am a go-back that, odd as it may seem, has an interest in the natural world and actually is enjoying a decent conversation that doesn't revolve around joining, hunting, wars, or a amalgamation of the three?" This is no common go-back. The finger pointing, the challenge, all ignored...for logic? Slowly, Wayfound lowers her hand; with its descent, she clearly wrestles to fashion a proper reply. "It... is inconceivable that you would have any prior knowledge of me, as I have never had contact with your tribe," she is forced to acknowledge, "and while I... have observed that certain elves are predisposed to mocking those of wolf-blood... I have never been given to understand that it is habitual among the Go-Backs..." And then her hand falls to her side, and she can only stare, stunned, at the elf that has transformed before her. He certianly looks like the normal go-back male that you may have heard of before, but the last few moments have proven that he is something entirely different. "That is correct, Wayfound. The first contact I had with you was when you snuck up on me a few moments ago." He offers a friendly, lopsided grin , teasing you before continuing. "I know the pains that can be caused when the way you are is not the way everyone else around you exists. Why d'ya think I start talkin' like this when I'm 'round th' other Go-backs, hmmm? Because, as much as I care for my people and my tribe, they tend to focus on the mundane and ignore things that don't affect them." "That's why I wander now. To do the things that I would be persecuted for doing back home." Slowly, gingerly, the Wolfrider sinks back down to the riverbank, the better to keep a visual level with the smaller elf... though truth be told, he has stunned her so thoroughly that a herd of zwoots might stampede past and she would not notice them. At least not much. "How," she rasps, "how then... did you learn to speak as you do? There were spirits... in the Holt of my birth; I talked to them, sometimes, learned from them... and we had elves of Glider blood and Underworld blood from whom I could learn other words... have you had the same fortune?" This reaction that Wayfound is exhibiting suprises Tefin, but in his many...many turns of watching the Fawns of the Go-Backs, he has learned to keep a calm disposition and explain himself thoroughly when required. This, most definately, is one of those times. "The best explanation I can come up with is that I am a quick study. Any time an outsider came, I spoke with them...learned from them as best I could. Of course, being as remote as we were, oppurtunities for learning were few and far between, but I remembered and practiced." His shoulders slump slightly and his brow furrows a bit as he considers his next words. "As for spirits...I have heard of them, but I have never seen or experienced them...the whole of Elven Magics are foreign to me. "And to me as well," the she-elf murmurs. Is that a trace of wistfulness? A trace, perhaps, of stoic acceptance of something which is closed to her? "I... do not even send particularly well, among my tribe. But Mother's brother who shaped the Holt... I could feel him. And I could feel Father in the Holt, as well." She pauses, screwing up her courage, and striving to dust off nuances of etiquette she's only barely begun to practice again, while spending time among the strange humans from Vrae. It comes out of her awkwardly, in the distinct tone of one who is not practiced at the giving of compliments... and yet, there is utter earnestness in her eyes. "You appear to have learned very well... your memory and... and observational abilities must be quite acute." "I do not send at all...I must not have the gift as some do." A slight tone of sadness permeates his voice at those words, as if it is something that he wishes to experience and knows that, somehow, some way he can experience it, but has been unable to no matter how hard he tried. Your compliment, however, is greeted with a warm smile and a twinkle in his eye. "Thank you very much, Wayfound. I have been practicing for a great deal of time to reach my current abilities, and hope that with time I will surpass the wisest of all elves." he chuckles softly. "Perhaps that is too lofty of a goal for a simple Go-back such as myself, but what good are goals if they are easily achieved? Smiling... does she do it? A tiny wisp of a smile tugs at one corner of the Wolfrider's mouth, and her eyes lighten, just a bit. "Time we have in abundance," she points out, "unlike the Tall Ones... even the ones I have been observing. And you will have more time than I, with no wolf-blood within you." Tefin is far more liberal with his smiles. Yours is immediately answered with one of his own. "True...I have heard that wolf-blooded elves have a shorter time than the pure blooded ones However, from what I have observed, that shortness of time leads to a brighter life. A star in the sky may shine for as long as I live, but it is no-where near as bright, or as beautiful, as one of the stars that falls from the heavens." Tefin tends to wax philisophical if you let him go. "It all balances out in the end...the shorter the life, the more one has to live in that period of time." Wayfound is not much of a philosopher... but then, she's out of practice with that, as well as the niceties of giving compliments. It's taken her moons just to get even remotely comfortable with saying more than bare factual statements to the humans further south on the beach. For now, at any rate, she seems to see nothing amiss in pulling one knee to her and wrapping her arms about it, sitting there listening and answering as if this has become the most natural thing in the world -- and for this reclusive Wolfrider maiden, it _is_. The living, breathing exchange of ideas; when has she been able to indulge it in last, with one of her own kind? "You have witnessed many lives?" she asks, and then gruffly ventures, "I am but thirty-three years of age; I expect I shall decide eventually that keeping count is a needless endeavor, given that the elders of my birth tribe as well as my current are all significantly older than I, but nevertheless I have been able to conclude that I have hardly had time to amass much experience in the patterns of lives." During those long, cold, winter nights, Tefin questioned everything he could, much to the chagrin of the other members of his tribe. His education..what there was of it, anyhow, was more metaphysical than physical. What is life? What is being? The physical did enter into it more often than not, so he learned that as well. "I have witnessed the beginnings of many lives and the ends of more than I care to recall. At home, to keep me out of trouble, I was given the duty to care for the fawns; the Go-back children. From the time that they were weaned to the time that they first sprouted taller, I was there, teaching and observing them." The words flow freely from Tefin's lips, as if a spigot had been turned and the speech long contained was finally allowed to burst forth. "It is interesting that you choose to keep a count of the number of years you have in your life. From my experiences, the wolf-blooded do not keep track of such things as age or time, but do place a high regard on who is the elder. It must be instinctual, because how would one know who is the elder if the number of years are not kept in memory somehow?" Tefin says "Or should I not question such things?" Pale white-gold brows quirk, and so does Wayfound's head; with that, then, she realizes aloud, "I have... abruptly realized that it is less a matter of conscious choice than simply... being aware of how many years I have amassed. It seemed a logical result of simply learning how to count; I have never _not_ remembered that it has been ten years since I left my tribe, and thirty-one years since I first began to speak." Her head straightens up again, then. "_You_ had a place... the teaching of the young? But you taught them as the tribe's ways dictated?" It is not entirely a question, not when Wayfound noticed that mention of persecution, back there. She is an interesting one, isn't she? Able to understand...to experience the passage of time outside of the Now that Tefin has heard of from the few passing Wolfriders. "From your reaction, this sudden realization that you keep track of the passage of time is different from what occurs in your tribe. You are not the average wolfblooded elf. You are extrordinary." A compliment, perhaps, echoing your earlier sentiment? "Yes, at the lodge I was the teacher of the young. The problem, however, was that the questions that I taught...the way of thinking, the way of doing things _differently_ did not sit well with the rest of the tribe. New ideas are frightening to those who do not wish to experience them. I taught what I was told to teach. No more." His eyes fall, looking squarely at a bit of bark halfway between you and his boot, avoiding eye contact. Shyness? Heart-pain? Discontent? Wayfound is _not_ adept at reading emotions, and so she must surreptitiously study the smaller, older elf for a few heartbeats. And then, hesitantly, she offers, "At Willowholt... when I began to notice the world around me, I tried to tell the tribe of my discoveries. Mother and Fire-father and Fur-father seemed to try to understand, but half the time my interest in the fact that I could find and describe six different kinds of insects in the immediate environs and that I was interested in not only that a rock is heavier than wood but _why_... half the time, it made them look at me as though I had grown a second head." Another pause. And then, tinily, she mutters, "And Midnight always told me I talked too much." Not shyness...not heart-pain...not discontent. Shame. Shame that he could not introduce the young to the delights of what he knew. Shame that he could only show them the proper spear technique, how to tourniquet a bleeding wound, and how to make a decent pot of stew. Nothing about life. Nothing about any animal but elk. Nothing but what was required, because the teasing he would suffer from his would-be peers was not worth teaching a fawn that ice turned to water, and water could turn to steam, but still be the same thing. "I don't think you talk too much, Wayfound." He says quietly, glancing up at you briefly. "This has been the best conversation I have had in turns." "As for your parents...consider this: Before, everything in the world was the way it was, just because it was the way it always had been. Explanations were not needed...they were universally understood. The information you shared was another layer of knowledge that was not needed for day-to-day life....or am I simply grasping at straws?" He looks up at you, questioningly. High Ones; are her eyes actually getting a trifle moist? Wayfound blinks rapidly, ridiculously touched, just as profoundly as she has been each time Arnos has spoken with her. And all it's taken is a simple statement of pleasure in what she has to contribute to a conversation. Now she does smile, awkward and tremulous a smile though it might be. "You are quite correct," she croaks, trying to steady her voice lest it betray her sentiments with the quaver that threatens to pop out from underneath her words. "My birth tribe was a motley gathering of elves of many bloods... but they all chose to live more or less as Wolfriders do, and Mother became reactionary in the face of the world outside the Holt. She was chieftess, you see..." And then she trails off, a bit. "Was, at any rate, till the Willowholt was destroyed and Lostholt took us in." Tefin says "How long ago was Willowholt destroyed, and how did it happen?" To this question, Wayfound blows out a soft, sober breath, and now wraps both her wiry arms about her knees. It is a strangely childlike position, for all that she is several inches taller than the Go-Back, and that might be just a trace of the child she once was in her countenance as she murmurs, "It was twenty-one years ago, and I was twelve at the time. We had experienced several consecutive seasons of abnormally foul weather, and the earth had become a vast expanse of mud within the boundaries of our Holt. Holes began to open up and topple the trees; we were forced to flee with what we could carry, and we lost some of our number in the process." Her voice goes softer, and though the recitation of facts is straightforward enough, there is old hurt there, somewhere behind the words. It took a little work, but now Wayfound has been coaxed out of her shell--a bit more than she was before, anyway. Sadly, this memory that Tefin has caused to surface unbidden may cause her to retreat to the safety of her shell again. "I am sorry." He whispers quietly, barely over the soft chirr of crickets in the underbrush. "I did not mean to bring old hurts to light." He would reach out and touch her knee...pat it reassuringly, or even give her a hug, but that would be far to familiar for those who just met only a few hours before. He sits, silently, listening to the sound of the cool sea breeze in the branches above, not sure what to say next. Perhaps, one day, she will share those feelings... "I accept your apology, with gratitude," says Wayfound then, looking up. Her smile is gone, but the earnestness in her eyes remains. "I cannot deny that I miss Talek and Softlock and No-fur, my brother... but I am also thankful that Lostholt gave us a tribe to live in again. Cutter has been a good chief to us." [Both players opted to call a pause at this point, assuming that the two elves spent time in companionable conversation until at last Wayfound told Tefin that she was camping among the humans further down the beach, and advising him to look for her there. End log.]