"Meeting the Tall Ones"

Log Date:
	8/4/02

Log Cast (PCs):
	Cutter, Leetah, Tefin, Trollkiller, Rillwhisper

Log Cast (emitted by other PCs):
	Wayfound, Arnos, Woodhawk, Maerro, Strongbow

Log Intro:
	Astonishing news has come to Lostholt before... but seldom so 
astonishing as the news brought by Fallberry, former Preserver companion to 
Rillwhisper, current Preserver companion to Rillwhisper's daughter Wayfound 
-- news that Wayfound has been keeping company with _humans._ All the more
amazingly, and dismayingly to older, more conservative members of the Holt,
she is bringing two of these Tall Ones close to Lostholt lands.
	Rillwhisper, Woodhawk, and Trollkiller have lost no time in securing
the aid of Strongbow to reach Wayfound in sending and try to gain a better
picture of her intentions. But for all that Strongbow is Rillwhisper's 
soul-brother and for all that there is no finer sender in the Holt, the
archer is positively furious that Wayfound has risked herself and by 
extension the tribe by making friends with Tall Ones... and he has not
hesitated to make his fury known. Accordingly, virulent disagreement has
arisen between the Wolfbringer and her soul-brother, though it has not in
the slightest diminished her determination to ride out and meet her cub,
and see with her own eyes that Wayfound is well and whole.
	But she is no longer chief of a tribe, and so Rillwhisper has made
herself wait until the word has spread through all of Lostholt before setting
forth to catch up with her long-absent offspring. The news Wayfound has 
brought, however, insures that Rillwhisper and her lifemates do not make the
trip alone... even if one of the group that rides forth with her to meet 
Wayfound and her human friends is the still-seething Strongbow....

----------
Foothills
A clearing among the tall pines, here two paths come together. The ground is 
  almost bare, yet not barren. The dry reddish soil is covered with a century 
  deep layer of pine needles and the scattered cones of the last few years 
  fall are still visible. Here and there bright little flowers peek through 
  the cushion of debris, purple crocus and a scattering of daffodil. Little 
  clusters of purple and yellow troll-faced flowers hide close to the roots of 
  the sheltering trees. The underbrush is bristly and evergreen for the most 
  part, with a few clusters of huckleberry and in the sunny areas, wild 
  blackberry vines in bloom.
The starry outlines of the Human Hunter begin to come out as the dimming red 
  light of sunset fills the cool autumn skies.
Contents:
Tiny camp(#212Je)
Obvious exits:
Lost Holt Trail<W>  Towards the Pass Trail<NW>

Tiny camp(#212Je)
This is a small campsite in a sheltered nook among the trees, barely more than 
  a recently dug fire-pit and enough bedrolls and belongings for four beings. 
  One distinctive thing can be noted about it, though, for those with 
  sensitive noses: the scent of humans and the scent of elves is equally 
  strong in this place.
Contents:
Leetah
Trollkiller(#3442PVc$0)
Cutter
Tefin

Wayfound, daughter of the Wolfbringer, paces with more restlessness than she 
  has felt in some time along the periphery of the campsite she is sharing 
  with her lovemate and their two human friends. She can't help it -- not with 
  the pounding headache that Strongbow's wrathful sending, hitting her out of 
  nowhere and carrying with it the added voices of her mother and her 
  fur-father, has left her. Night is falling, and Maerro has already dropped 
  off into a tired doze at the end of this day's hike, but Arnos is still 
  wakeful. The human is keeping the fire going, in between strumming soft 
  chords upon his cwrth... and watching the young she-elf pace. "You can take 
  it easy," he calls over gently, not wanting to rile her. "These are your 
  kin, aren't they? They'll be happy to see you."

"Happy to see me," Wayfound mutters fretfully, "is a state of which I have no 
  doubt... no, Arnos, what worries me is how they will be to see _you_ and 
  Maerro... Timmorn's Blood... Strongbow is furious. I could feel it from 
  here. And Mother..." Gulp. She doesn't want to think about the mindset of 
  her mother. Cutter might be chief of Lostholt... but a large portion of 
  Wayfound still reacts to Rillwhisper as though her dam still wore her 
  chief's lock.

And off in the distance, the howls of wolves rise up out of the growing night. 
  One lupine voice... then two... then three. And Wayfound whirls, eyes and 
  ears alertly focusing upon the faraway calls. "That'll be them," she 
  breathes.

As the wolves strike up their chorus of greetings, another call heralds the 
  arrival of the small party from Lostholt. A send, as unfailingly straight as 
  Strongbow's arrows, ripples through the campsite and is open to all, 
  **Ayooah!** Cutter's mental greeting carries no reproach, though there is 
  some trepidation fluttering around the edges. A scant moment later, the moon 
  pale chieftan steps through the underbrush encircling the camp hardly 
  stirring so much as a twig. His cerulean gaze makes a sweep of the area, 
  landing on the dozing form of the younger human and then the wakeful one as 
  well, before he turns to the younger huntress, **Well, they certainly look 
  different..** He makes a quick test of the air, **And they smell different 
  too.** The later of which is certainly an improvement, in his opinion.

Meandering her way slowly into the campsite, the brown-skinned healer known as 
  Leetah makes what could only be described as a tentative, discreet entrance. 
  It was nothing like Cutter's big arrival, but then again she felt uncertain 
  of this unfamilliar terrain. With her auburn curls bobbing against her back 
  as she moved, Leetah watched her surroundings pass by with a mixture of 
  morbid awe and cautious concern. In no time, she is following her lifemate's 
  example not of her own accord, fixating her eyes on these new humans. 
  Emerald eyes impossibly wide, she raises one hand to touch fingertips to her 
  lower lip. So these were those strange five-fingers that Fallberry chattered 
  about...

To be honest, Tefin really has no idea what to expect from this meeting. Sure, 
  in his conversations with Wayfound he has asked of the Chief and healer of 
  Lostholt, as well as information on her family and friends, but that did 
  very little to prepare him for this moment. Tenatively he stands from his 
  spot next to the campfire and makes his way over to where Wayfound paces 
  restlessly, watching elves materialize out of the surrounding brush like 
  wraiths out of a fall mist. "I suppose introductions may be in order..."

Trollkiller isn't at all sure what to make of any of this, and despite 
  Wayfound's involvement, doesn't entirely trust it either. He pads forward, 
  quietly, wolfless, looking over the strange collection, sniffing a little at 
  the air - the sents _are_ different, and it's very strange to him - and he 
  doesn't know what to do. So he waits.

Woodhawk, in turn, stands behind Trollkiller, one hand on his back, a 
  steadying hand on his more lupine lifemate's shoulder. Less disturbed and 
  more curious than the furry one, he appears less enshadowed - an effect of 
  attitude, more than light or shelter of foiliage.

The howls were enough to jerk Maerro awake by themselves -- and the gangly 
  human youth bolts up groggily in his sleepfurs, rubbing at his disoriented 
  eyes and mumbling in his native tongue, "((Wha? Whazzat? Are they here? I'm 
  awake...))" And then he comes fully conscious, letting out a squawk of 
  surprise at the sight of the pale-haired chieftain stepping forth out of the 
  night. The chieftain... and those who come with him. Shadows of other elves 
  and the biggest wolves any Vraeyan has ever seen are on Cutter's heels... 
  and at the sight of them, Maerro swallows nervously.

Arnos stills the strings of his instrument and stills himself as well, 
  deciding very deliberately to remain seated, to reduce the size difference 
  between himself and the newcomers. He is the tallest being in the camp, and 
  suddenly extremely conscious of it; however, he shoots a sideways glance at 
  Tefin, smiling crookedly and answering, "Aye, Tefin... Wayfound, would you 
  do the honors?"

Wayfound's ambergreen gaze shoots this way and that, taking in not only her 
  companions but the tribesmates she has not seen in well over ten turns of 
  the seasons. And then... her family. Her expression crumples a little, 
  intermingled nervousness and hope breaking through the shell of reserve this 
  odd young elf habitually wears. "My chief," she breathes out to Cutter. 
  "Leetah... Fur-father, Fire-father..."

And then Rillwhisper is there, stepping forward with the same wary eye for the 
  Tall Ones that every other Lostholter in the clearing is displaying. But 
  first things first. She looks her cub up and down, and steps forward all at 
  once to seize her in an embrace. "My eyes see with joy, daughter," she can 
  be heard to whisper, before she pulls back and echoes Tefin's suggestion... 
  not quite prepared to consider her reaction to hearing a human speak elf 
  words, as Arnos has just done. "Who're your friends?"

Wayfound nods swiftly, then, and steps back to gesture to those with her, each 
  in turn. "Tefin of the Go-Backs... Arnos and Maerro... these are my tribe. 
  My family."

Cutter watches Wayfound's expression as Rillwhisper steps forward and he 
  smiles as he reaches for Leetah's hand, to hold it in a loose embrace, 
  casting a reassuring glance in her direction. A moment later, he releases 
  the slim, sun-bronzed fingers and steps forward. He offers a welcoming smile 
  to Tefin, "I am Cutter.." he pauses to chuckle just a bit, "I would welcome 
  you to the holt but we aren't exactly on holt lands." He glances over at 
  Wayfound with a humorous glint in his lupine eyes. He then steps over toward 
  Arnos, noting that the younger human seems to be a bit unnerved so avoids 
  him for a moment. He stands not far from Arnos's feet eying the larger human 
  with a critical expression before speaking again, "We couldn't make heads or 
  tails of where you are from. Strongbow's.. interpretation.. wasn't exactly 
  precise. Perhaps you could tell us now that we're here?"
Without glancing over, he sends a quick rebuff to Ashefur who has been 
  sneaking up on the other human intending to curiously snuffle him. The wolf 
  backs away and sits on his haunches but, looks as if he just might try again 
  once Cutter's back is turned. Another ripple of send magic unfelt and 
  un'heard' by the humans reaches out to the elves present, **Their skin is 
  much lighter than either the Hoan G'Tay Sho or the Olbar humans'. Are they 
  all like this.. Light skinned, like us?**

Leetah hesitates, ceasing all motion at the fringe of the camp. When Cutter 
  reaches out to touch her own hand before letting loose and moving away, a 
  small smile paints her lips. Her features partially cloaked in shadows cast 
  down by the canopy above, the healer next simply clasps her hands in front 
  of her modestly. A quick gaze sets itself on Wayfound, gently appraising her 
  condition for any viewable manifestations that might be present. When none 
  are completely evident, Leetah relaxes a bit, even sending privately to 
  Wayfound soothingly. It was almost disturbing to hear humans speak elven 
  with practiced ease. Within no time she is studiously viewing the humans up 
  and down again, as well as stealing sidelong glances over to Cutter and the 
  other elves, especially when her lifemate sends. Despite, she remains 
  shrouded in her silence.

Trollkiller looks to Woodhawk, then to Rillwhisper, then over again to 
  Wayfound. He smiles; she's picked up a bit of gold, somewhere; that's new. 
  And she seems well. He'd run to her, but knows not to, and again, waits. As 
  for the rest - he's more used to humans speaking intelligibly, having spent 
  more time in and around the Mountain than he might entirely like. The other 
  human, though - that's not a human-speak he's heard before. It's different. 
  A different kind of talking. And they look so... strange. It's... they're 
  _clean_. That's it - they're a lot cleaner than he'd expect. Stranger and 
  stranger.

At the matronly embrace of his Lovemate, Tefin simply stands where he was, 
  watching the sparse grouping of elves react to the Vrae and their 
  differences, hoping that these elves use their heads instead of their 
  emotions as some would think, instinct winning out over intellect. he would 
  speak, but to be frank he's not sure what he would say. So, like 
  Trollkiller, he waits, silently, until some attention is turned or an 
  oppurtunity presents itself.

Woodhawk, meanwhile, is spending more time looking at the elf wrapping himself 
  around Wayfound. It appears she's found someone to enjoy. He smiles, a 
  little, and sends quietly to his lifemates - and otherwise waits, until the 
  Cutter and the human chief finish sniffing each other out. So far, it's ... 
  peaceful.

"You're all right, cub?" Rillwhisper mutters gruffly at Wayfound, provoking 
  the younger elf to nod swiftly at her, even as she catches Leetah's sending 
  at the same time. Wayfound casts a glance back and forth between them both, 
  murmuring to them in reply, "Indeed... I've a bit of a headache, but I fear 
  I am out of practice sending, my apologies...!"

Maerro is obviously striving to follow the older human's lead -- and at any 
  rate, he is entrusted to speak for his Captain's own family, isn't he? Now 
  that he is a man grown, and made the Captain's brother as well? So he 
  squares his shoulders and tries to look as if he's been snuffled by wolves 
  before. Which he has... though this doesn't necessarily mean the lad's used 
  to it, quite yet. He musters up a lopsided little smile, though, as he looks 
  up.

And Arnos, not batting an eye as Cutter addresses him, inclines his dark head 
  in easy acknowledgement of the request. "I'll tell you and gladly. We come 
  from a land called Vrae, far across the ocean; we've been stranded here, 
  ever since our ((ship)) was destroyed, out in the ocean Wayfound has told us 
  you call the Vastdeep." He doesn't smile, for the memory of crewmates lost 
  is lingering in his eyes, but there is no hesitation in the human's answer. 
  His elfin words are practically flawless, though his accent is odd, lilting 
  vowels in unusual places, altering certain consonants as well.

Cutter nods as he's given a much better explaination than Strongbow provided. 
  Of course, considering that the surly archer was fit to bite the stickers 
  from a pricklebush after his conversation, the Lostholt elves are probably 
  lucky that they got anything at all from him. Cutter recognizes the look of 
  loss in the human's eyes and that causes him to relax a bit. Ashefur, seeing 
  this as an opportunity, bellycrawls over to Maerro and, stretching his neck 
  as far as he can, begins to snuffle at the new creature. Cutter glances over 
  and shakes his head. Instead of admonishing the wolf this time though, he 
  looks to the younger human and speaks, "He won't bite you as long as you 
  don't bite him," that said, he turns back to Arnos. "You speak our words 
  very well for someone not born to them." Okay, so he's not one for mincing 
  words. It's part of his charm, right?

Leetah draws her lips into a tight line, her vision half-concealed by a thick 
  frame of dark lashes outlining her emerald green eyes. Observing the 
  exchange between Cutter and Arnos, she keeps a vigilant hold on her position 
  near the border of clearing and brush. As the human's tale slowly unwinds, 
  she cannot help but be carried along with it. The alien manner of their 
  dress and uncanny use of elfin speech patterns was nothing short of amazing, 
  even if they had their own way of going about it. Great Sun, was this 
  far-flung description of past events really true? It bordered on 
  unbelievable, but then again the healer had her own proof right in front of 
  her in the form of oddly-dressed humans.

They are odd, that is to be certian, but from the turns that Wayfound and 
  Tefin have spent with them, these are not the average humans that the tribes 
  of Two Moons are used to. Compared to the Olbar, these humans are closer to 
  elves than their own kind, judging from their dress and manerrisms. And the 
  fantastic part is, the story is entirely true. Tefin can speak at length of 
  the ships, of the technology of these people, of their ways, their 
  beliefs...a veritable scholar on the Vrae. "Arnos has been practicing since 
  Wayfound discovered their camp. He is their....speaker...Maerro is also here 
  to represent their Chief's family..."

Trollkiller and Woodhawk wait by Rillwhisper, letting the chiefs negotiate as 
  they must, hoping it doesn't take too long, so they can go to Wayfound and 
  greet her properly, as Wolfriders should.

Maerro shoots a glance at Cutter at the elf-chief's brief words to him, before 
  staring down as steadily as he can manage at the wolf. "He's got bigger 
  teeth'n me, I'm thinkin'," he pipes up, his youthful treble cracking briefly 
  as it seems to want to change to a deeper pitch. The youth has a thicker 
  accent than the adult human does, broader and more rolling, but he also has 
  a clear-eyed boy's wonder still within a face on its way to its adulthood. 
  And something of that wonder grows a little brighter now, even as he holds 
  himself quite still for the wolf's inspection, muttering aside to Ashefur, 
  "Hoy there, wolf!"

Arnos, in the meantime, flashes a broad grin at Tefin as the Go-Back speaks 
  up, affirming, "Aye. Wayfound taught me your words, as I taught her ours. 
  She was the first of your kind we saw, till our ((Captain)) came back to us 
  and brought more of your folk with him. I've never seen anyone, our kind 
  _or_ yours, who learns so swift and so well." His attentive green gaze 
  flashes to Rillwhisper, Woodhawk, and Trollkiller, then, the elves lingering 
  nearest Wayfound... who, it might be noted, is beginning to look distinctly 
  pink about the cheeks. To the elves who are to his eyes unmistakably her 
  mother and fathers, he calls over, "You should be proud of her."

Wayfound coughs a bit, before putting in, a shadow of her cubhood habit of 
  elaborating upon a point struggling up out of the back corners of her 
  mind... though unlike as when she was a cub, this time she actually sticks 
  to the point she wants to make. "((Captain)) is a Vraeyan word for chief," 
  she notes, "and Arnos and Maerro have come to speak on behalf of their 
  ((Captain)), whose mate is with cub; he could not make the journey with me."

Cutter turns to look over at Wayfound, then realizes that he has yet to give 
  the all clear. His own cheeks go slightly pink as he sends, though it is more 
  of a feeling than anything else. He gives a lopsided smile as he hears the news 
  of the Vraeyan Captain's good fortune, "She is near her time then?" he asks 
  knowing that is the only thing which usually prevents an elfin female from 
  doing whatever she pleases when expecting a cub. He glances back toward the 
  holt with a thoughtful expression on his face. His voice quickly follows 
  without waiting for a reply, "Perhaps I will go to meet him, then."

Ah, so that foreign, repeated 'Captain' was the equivilent of 'Chief' to their 
  own tongue. Still, it was almost ironic that Leetah's folk was not too clear 
  on the word themselves until the day Cutter showed up with his motely band 
  across the hot desert sands. Expression now carefully opaque to anyone that 
  might glance at her, she puzzles over the perplexities that these humans 
  present.

"I'm sure he would enjoy the visit." Tefin says quietly, looking curiously 
  from Wayfound to her parents and back again.

Trollkiller looks at Cutter, and at Wayfound, and at Cutter. So it's okay to 
  go ahead? He thinks, and thinks a little more, and steps forward, just a 
  little - heading roundabout towards Wayfound. Woodhawk looks uncertain at 
  first, but follows, after a moment's hesitation.

Wayfound's last few vestiges of uncertainty fall away, as Woodhawk and 
  Trollkiller finally follow their lifemate's example and embrace her close. 
  Her memory has always been un-wolfishly clear; once a thing gets into 
  Wayfound's head, it stays there. But memory is no match for the actual touch 
  of flesh, for the actual scents that can be inhaled by a wandering daughter 
  who, for all that she's generally certain her tribe doesn't understand her, 
  is nevertheless profoundly overjoyed to be reunited with them. In fact, 
  Trollkiller's hugs are enough to take her off her feet for all that Wayfound 
  is taller than her mother. One of her rare smiles blossoms up, and 
  Rillwhisper too can be seen to smile, before Wayfound gets enough breath 
  back to blurt out, "My chief, before anyone goes to meet the rest of the 
  Vraeyans... I've other news to bring first--" Arnos and Maerro abruptly 
  exchange glances, the boy's nervousness flaring up again, and the expression 
  of the man turning grim. But Arnos nods once at Wayfound, firmly, and the 
  she-elf goes on, "We need to tell you also of the monsters that attacked our 
  camp, when we were still on the shore of the Vastdeep Water. Monsters that 
  had been near-wolves, once... but changed. By magic."

The tone in Wayfound's voice snaps Cutter's attention back to her. His brows 
  slowly furrow as he listens to the bad news that's come along with the good. 
  His gaze slips over to Leetah and then back to Wayfound, "Changed how?" he 
  asks sounding as if he wonders if he really wants to hear that answer.

Leetah watches with joy as the family reunites before her. In some dark part 
  of her she was envious of their reunion, she missed her own departed 
  kitlings. Despite this, none of her inner thought processes are clearly 
  evident on her bronzed face. Instead, a gentle smile paints her lips, 
  lending to the little family should they look up.

"Mostly structural, with increases in the length and mass of the long bones 
  and spine." Tefin speaks up; his area of expertise. Sadly, this happy moment 
  must defer to the danger facing the elves and the newly discovered Vrae. 
  "The near-wolves had three heads instead of the usual one, and shocking 
  tentacles sprouted from each shoulderblade. Their mass was increased to that 
  of at least your wolf's size, and they were able to take a great deal of 
  damage before sucumbing to our spears and arrows. The one that I studied had 
  a head removed and was stabbed several times before it finally died." he 
  steps a little closer, into the firelight, his voice clear. "They were also 
  cruel, targeting the females and their young instead of the defenders, 
  attempting to sow chaos in the group. They only broke off when they were 
  attacked themselves. Totally un-natural. I could even feel that they weren't 
  quite right."

Trollkiller snuffles Wayfound all over. Her scent, her fur - they haven't 
  changed. He doesn't care so very much about the monsters - at least, not 
  until he hears the description given by ... Tefin? ** That's... ** he 
  searches for a word... ** Grotesque. **

Tefin says "I can show you a longbone, if you like."

Rillwhisper shoots Leetah a crooked little smile as she does in fact catch 
  that smile of the healer's; most of her attention, though, is on her 
  daughter, and the smile doesn't quite reach the Wolfbringer's eyes. Her 
  daughter, in the meantime, nods gravely at Tefin's description -- and if 
  Tefin is as uncharacterstically verbose for a Go-Back as _she_ is for a 
  Wolfrider, this seems to be something to which she, Arnos, and Maerro are 
  all well accustomed by now.

"There were nine of them," Arnos offers. "Tefin and I slew one. Wayfound 
  slew another fighting at our ((Captain))'s side. But the things killed 
  two of our people, and two of the elves visiting us as well."

"I don't have much more magic sense than Tefin," comes Wayfound's addendum, 
  "but they made my flesh crawl even aside from how they looked. And all I 
  could think of was Mother's stories of Doreel's giant spiders."

Cutter's brows draw ever lower as the creatures and their mannerisms are 
  described. His lips draw back in a feral snarl as mention of Doreel is made 
  as well. "Do you think that one is responsible for those creatures?" he asks 
  in a voice that is edged with the rumble of a protective wolf's growl.

Leetah listens to Tefin's account with a somber note playing across her face. 
  She slowly shook her head, reversing in step to diverge into the somewhat 
  comforting foliage provided by the surrounding forest. At least this facet 
  of the landscape hadn't changed profoundly on their journey out of holt 
  lands. Cutter's change in demeanor made her regard him with a bit of 
  empathy, but it didn't last nearly long enough. With a last, retreating look 
  to her lifemate, she conveyed her thoughts via a private send. Glancing out 
  to the others, she nods warmly, speaking for the first time since their 
  arrival. "It brings joy to my eyes to see you again, Wayfound, as well as to 
  see you all together once again. If you would excuse me, I think I shall 
  retire with the others still yet in the woods." Backing up a few notches 
  still, she disappears quietly into the close-knit forest.

The little Go-back shakes his head. "That is not known at this time. Very few 
  elves have the capability to shape creatures into forms not their own, and 
  this Doreel, from what Wayfound has said, is capable of such a feat. The 
  only question is, why did he do so? From the tales that I have heard, the 
  only shaping that he performed was to mimic the preservers as spiders, and 
  those only attacked when threatened. It is a distinct possibility, and at 
  this time, the only one that we have." A few steps are made, closing the 
  distance between Wayfound's family knot and himself...she's the only person 
  here that he really knows in any sense of the word, so the closer to her she 
  is, the better.

Trollkiller looks over at Tefin, and shakes his head, as if to clear it. He 
  giggles, perhaps inappropriately, and nuzzles Wayfound's nose. ** No wonder 
  you like him. He talks like you. ** Woodhawk, of course, baps Trollkiller's 
  head.
Trollkiller ow
Trollkiller glares at Woodhawk, but not fiercely. He deserved that, after all.

Arnos and Maerro aren't exactly qualified to offer an opinion on this 
  particular matter -- an unusually enlightened breed of human they might be, 
  but they're humans nonetheless. And magic is beyond them. Maerro bites his 
  lip in a manner that, for all that he's trying to affect a suitably adult 
  demeanor, only serves to underscore his youth... and even Arnos looks 
  uncomfortable, now, as he defers to his elfin companions in this.

Wayfound gives Trollkiller and Woodhawk each an extra hug, making up for lost 
  time as well as trying to soothe away some of the tension returning when she 
  speaks on the topic at hand. As Tefin draws nearer to her she reaches out to 
  grasp his hand as well, nodding in support of his words and trying to choke 
  back a bit of a strangled giggle of her own at Trollkiller's sending. "None 
  of you have indicated in your experiences with Winnowill that she has done 
  shapings of this magnitude, and although an elf of the Underworld who camped 
  with us for a time spoke of one who used to be among them that could 
  accomplish it, he is unaccounted for. In our journey across the land we took 
  great care to avoid Blue Mountain; if Winnowill has gained new power, we had 
  no desire to test it. And there's more... messengers came to the Briarholt 
  chieftess, speaking of monsters that had been seen on the plains as well... 
  have any of you received word of this?"

Cutter calms a bit and nods at Wayfound's words, "Aye, we've heard of it.. I 
  saw those on the plains but, I didn't think of Doreel. I've been thinking it 
  was probably Winnowill and yet.. she's never done anything quite this 
  horrible before." Of course, it's not to say that she /wouldn't/ but, he 
  doesn't voice that part.

Yes, Tefin does talk like Wayfound, but he'd hope that that wasn't the only 
  reason that she likes him. If Trollkiller's send was heard, Tefin makes no 
  note of it, but observant elves can see the tips of his ears flushing 
  slightly. "I agree on that point. Winnowill, from what I have gathered, 
  would not...stoop to such levels. Besides, the Blue Mountain is far from 
  where we were attacked, and the mountain is far from the plains. I do not 
  believe that she would risk one of the bondbirds to transport these 
  creatures."
The hand attached to Wayfound gives hers a reassuring squeeze.

Listening to the elves, Arnos looks from face to face with the gaze of a 
  linguist seizing the opportunity to absorb subtle differences in 
  pronunciation and diction between the elves he knows and the elves he 
  doesn't... even as his more conscious mind focuses on the news of the 
  monsters. "This is beyond my people," he announces earnestly. "But I can add 
  this. My people's ((ship))--"

"A ((ship)) is a great raft," Wayfound clarifies. "Theirs was big enough to 
  carry six eights of their people."

And again, Arnos nods his dark head. "Our ((ship)) was destroyed by a monster 
  as well, a monster in the sea. None of the elves and humans we have camped 
  with had ever seen anything like it." Now, the human leans a little forward, 
  anxiously finishing, "Could there be one among you powerful enough to make 
  monsters, in all of these places?"

Trollkiller looks away from Wayfound for a moment. ** I ... ** He isn't 
  entirely sure why he's saying this, even, but here it is; ** I don't think 
  so, either. That it's Winnowill, I mean... ** He looks over at the human. 
  That's a very large raft; he imagines what it would look like and comes up 
  with something not entirely unlike a really, really big canoe. And speaks; 
  his voice is rough and gravelly. "Not amoung us. Not amoungst any tribe we 
  know. I don't ... the most Doreel made across eights of eights of eights of 
  years were spiders. And mostly, he just made them bigger. And he's the most 
  powerful magic shaper I've heard of."

Cutter's expression shifts to one that suggests he is racking his brain to 
  figure this riddle out. Finally, he shakes his head, "Winnowill is possibly 
  powerful enough but, has never done anything so.. horrible.. that we know 
  of. Normally, she's much too concerned with her mountain to bother with 
  those of us on the outside. Perhaps there is one in the UnderWorld that 
  could as well.. but, could they have tunnels even under the VastDeep?" He 
  shakes his head.. "Not even the firstborn children of the High Ones have 
  appeared able to do so many awful things in so short a timespan." He blinks 
  and then logic carries those thoughts onward, "If it's not one of the 
  firstborns.. could it be a.. High One?" he asks almost as if speaking to 
  himself.

"That is one of the possibilities that we have surmised, yes. The only high 
  ones that we know about that remain from the original group are your tribe's 
  mother, Timmain, and this Doreel. There could be others, true." Tefin steps 
  closer to Wayfound, one arm going around her waist to give her a little 
  squeeze, looking from her family to Cutter. "We have been discussing this 
  for many nights, Wayfound and I, and have yet to come to a satisfactory 
  conclusion."

Now this unofficial council is getting into territory verging on that of the 
  _gods_ for Arnos and Maerro. Vardeus has already had a taste of this -- and 
  now Arnos gets a bit of it as well, feeling a sudden sympathy for how his 
  Captain must have felt when Shay'la told him how old she was. "My 
  ((Captain)) has asked me to tell you," he says to the Lostholters at large, 
  "that our help is yours, if you'll have it. Wayfound has told us..." And now 
  the human's green glance sweeps around, both to the elves he can see and the 
  shadows lurking back behind in the trees; he's fairly sure he spotted 
  someone scowling back there, with a bow. "That... much ill has lain between 
  your people and ours. We can't speak for the humans with whom you've fought 
  in the past... but we can speak for us. Those of from Vrae mean no elves 
  harm, and we're deeply grateful for the help we've gotten from the elves 
  who've camped with us, Wayfound especially. Now that we've brought her back 
  to you we'll leave you in peace if you wish it... or carry whatever word 
  back to our ((Captain)) you request."

Cutter turns back to Arnos and nods his head, "Aye, we'll accept your help in 
  this matter.. though for now, there is little to do aside from figure out 
  who is behind these strange creatures.." He breaks off momentarily as an 
  angry send shoots from the direction of the trees, felt by all but, heard by 
  only one. Cutter casts a warning glance toward those trees but, continues 
  on, ".. so we can flush them out into a fair fight." He winces inwardly at 
  that word 'fight'. It brings up too many memories that The Now conveniently 
  hides away for him most of the time. By now, the wolfchief's expression is 
  one of resigned grimness. "We must see that no more die needlessly," he 
  states emphaticly. As if the thought has just popped into his head he 
  brightens, "Suntop.. we can see if he might know anything about this."

Wayfound winces visibly -- that angry send is, after all, from the source of 
  the throbbing headache she's got. Her mother, by contrast, rolls her eyes 
  and fires a private sending back into the trees herself, her stance taking 
  on more of her Wolfbringer mode now, a stance that her lifemates and cub can 
  easily identify as the one she takes on every time she has a fight with 
  Strongbow. The archer's sendings stop sizzling through everybody's minds 
  when he focuses his attention upon his soul-sister. Rill can't hope to match 
  his sending strength, but her eyes take fire nevertheless.
Wayfound wisely opts to leave her mother to argue the archer now, fairly 
  certain that Strongbow would shoot her from twenty paces if she dared to 
  utter a word to him. Instead, she risks a question of Cutter, "Should we 
  return to the Holt, my chief...?"

"Maerro and I will wait here," Arnos promptly and diplomatically offers. 
  "We've camped as safely as we can."

Cutter glances toward the trees and nods his head, "Yes, we should return and 
  call council. I'm going to see if we can't reach Suntop.. though I might 
  well have to send Ashefur after him..." he stops there and doesn't add a 
  word about getting the surly archer to comply. It will probably take less 
  time to send the wolf than it would to convince Strongbow.. then again, 
  Suntop's not /that/ far away and he does have the palace to help him....

At Cutter's assent Wayfound blows out a breath, stepping momentarily away from 
  her family and Tefin to come back to Arnos and Maerro -- and it is probably 
  for the best that Rillwhisper has thoroughly distracted Strongbow in the 
  blistering exchange of sendings the two of them are hurling back and forth, 
  for otherwise the archer might choke out loud at the sight of the 
  Wolfbringer's daughter actually hugging a human. But Wayfound does hug Arnos 
  and smile sheepishly up at him, saying, "Keep your heads down, both of 
  you... we call it a den-hide, among my folk. I'll send Fallberry to come 
  find you when we've decided, all right?"

Arnos hugs her easily back, then ruffles her pale hair. Maerro, watching, 
  smiles as bravely as he can manage at the both of them. "We'll wait," the 
  older human promises. "Get on home... spend some time with your family. I'd 
  do the same in your place." And never mind that Arnos isn't likely to see 
  his own home and family again, for the rest of his days.

Wayfound nods once... and then even turns and hugs Maerro for good measure, 
  before rounding at last upon the elves of Lostholt. "All right then," says 
  she, squaring her shoulders. "Let us go for council... let's go home."

[End log.]