Log Date: 4/15/96 Log Cast: Aureole, Briarcatch Summer. Or hottime, as the Plainsrunners call it. Neither of the elves have found their deed names yet, and whether or not the huntress has found her soulname is yet to be discovered. However, it has been half a Turning, and the Walk is not over yet. Not just yet anyway. Closer to sleeping the same schedules now, instead of the opposites they were before the travel, midday sun finds them still near the tent, Briarcatch crouched in the open flaps, to look out over the drop. They have camped on the edge, where dry rocky gorge meets the grasslands, at the base of the mountains that lead toward the Glider homes. He worries at a strip of dried longhorn with his back teeth, thoughtfully. Aureole, along with her wolf little more than a bundle of furs where the two have curled up by the tent, stretches drowsily. Mrf. Don't want to move much, in the heat. But she dimly hears Briarcatch's breath nearby, and she is restless. It's been good to be on the Walk with him, but for once, the huntress _wants_ something, and she can't identify it. Perhaps this makes her slit open first one blue eye, and then another. Aureole announces, groggily, ** Hot! ** Whiteridge, who had curled up, or collapsed, some distance away from the other wolf and the elves and their hide-thing, grunts, and closes amber eyes again. Hotter wearing fur. Briarcatch glances over, and smiles lopsidedly. ** Hottime. It's supposed to be hot, Ree. ** Rising to his feet, he stretches, meat left to hang from his teeth, as he stretches his arms overhead. ** Thought you'd sleep until the Daystar went down. ** Aureole rolls her head by way of stretching her neck. ** Can't sleep too well, ** she complains. Briarcatch's grin widens. ** Then maybe we should be travelling. ** Aureole grins a bit, but not quite with her usual ebullience. ** Something, ** she agrees, vaguely. With sleep-stiffened clumsiness she clambers up, yawns, rubs a hand across her eyes, and looks for her leathers and weapons. Aureole(#769POXce) This young elf-maid stands at about 4'4" in height, at least when she is standing -- which is seldom, for she is perpetually in motion, always fidgeting, sniffing at this, climbing over that. No matter where she goes, she is heralded by her fine, silver-white mop of hair; that thick, soft mass surroundeds her face like a disheveled cloud, speaking of only passing acquaintance with grooming. Under her shaggy bangs, her wide twilight-colored eyes, flecked with tiny bits of silver, like stars, are set at a lupine slant. Her hair and eyes stand out in sharp contrast against a golden tan that suggests much time spent out in the sun; her frame is tall, lithe, and curved, and she moves with the confidence of a huntress used to wide spaces. Via her candid gaze, the twitch of her tapered ears, and the clear strength of her sending, she broadcasts keen interest in everything that happens around her. She is clad in a sleeveless, strapless leather halter top, dyed green with a lighter green fringe trimming its upper edge, and which leaves her shoulders and midriff bare. She also wears leather breeches the color of sunbleached grass, and tucked into soft yellow boots. Briarcatch and Aureole's tent(#2652Ae) A tent of well-cured hides, put together as tightly as can be, to keep out rains, and and snows, and too hot light from the Daystar. There is a hole in the center, for smoke to escape when a fire is needed, and the front has two flaps, which can be closed or tied apart as the elves choose. Soft furs line the floor of the tent, ankle deep, and there are even deeper piles for sleeping in, one for a taller elf, one for a kit. Contents: Briarcatch Keenears(#7656ae) Keenears yurfs, sleepily, as his elf moves. Once dressed and armed, Ree leans over to nuzzle Briarcatch's shoulders, before slipping out of the tent to study the day. GreenSea Valley A light, cool, steady breeze sets the waist-high grasses of this valley to cascading in verdant waves. The sunlight tops the green waves with glittering crests of gold, producing a mesmerizing interplay of light and color. Yet, for all the apparent color and movement of the grasses, there is an ominous stillness.... and oppressive silence which lurks beneath the surface. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise slightly for these are the hunting grounds of the Shadowkin, the Plainsrunner hunter. Here, they stalk the great straight-horns and springers, stalking them under cover of the swaying grasses. The bright tangles of the Waterfall begin to come out as the dimming red light of sunset fills the hot summer skies. Contents: Briarcatch and Aureole's tent(#2652Ae) Shadowmant(#4905DHIJaepqs) small tent Obvious exits: Trail Rolling Hills Grasslands Briarcatch has arrived. Aureole shields her eyes from the Daystar's light, and squints out across the Plains. ** Where do we go next? ** With one golden hand she points to the south. ** I went that way before... there's a tribe down there, I ran into one of them. ** Briarcatch follows the hand that points, squinting himself. ** Five-fingers, or elves? The last thing we want to do, is head toward humans. I want to go home, when this is all said and done. ** Stretching again, his gaze is drawn toward the rocky land toward the mountains, and he nods with his chin. ** What about there? ** Aureole replies, ** Elves -- Wolfriders... ** But she follows your gaze in that direction, and nods thoughtfully. ** Maybe... you know, I think... Cliffdancer went up that way. ** Her eyes turn a little wistful. ** Maybe there's something to be found... ** Briarcatch nods, studying you now, more than the land, and nods again, suggesting simply, ** Maybe Cliffdancer himself. ** That said, he moves about, to retrieve his spear from where it was thrust into the ground, examining the head carefully before it is replaced, and he heads back to the tent, to gather furs, and roll up shelter. At dawn, there will be no tent on the cliff. Finding Cliffdancer... that'd please Ree. She wonders to you absently in sending if perhaps the wandering tribesmate ever found... Aureole's lupine memory displaces the name, but she brings up the image of a feral she-elf, that fascinated Cliffdancer. Speculating over this, Aureole helps you gather the gear, and as the tent is taken down, Keenears emerges disgruntledly from it. Keenears has arrived. Briarcatch frowns thoughtfully awhile, then shrugs. ** Maybe that's where he's been for so long, ** as he ties the last of the ties around a roll of furs, and rises to sling the carry strap over one shoulder. ** Maybe he has kits of his own now. ** Aureole giggles a bit, as she takes her share of the supplies to carry, and she sends, ** I can hardly imagine Cliffdancer with kits... but then, he's been gone a long time... ** Introspective of gaze, she shrugs. ** That way, then? ** Briarcatch nods, and tugs his spear free of the ground a last time. Whiteridge rouses himself and gives a good shake, sending bits of fur floating off on the breeze that ruffles the grasses. ** That way, ** and off sets Briarcatch, with a ground-eating stride. Two elves, and two wolves, then. Aureole smiles in earnest at her companion; good to get out and walk, as it answers the restlessness in her, at least someone. Her attention roves as she sets into a steady lope, scrutinizing this, studying that, all in critical detail. The land that the two walk slopes steadily downward, grasses growing in more scarecely as rock and baked earth takes over. When it does rain here, the ground drinks it quickly, and for awhile, there is greenery, before the Daystar bakes it away again. The Daystar sets, and the stars come out to wink at the elves beneath. Through clouds that appear as white ghosts against the dark backdrop.. and some darker ones that are simply shadows. ** Timmorn's Blood, ** observes Aureole, in a curse she learned from her father, of the parched earth over which she walks. But her spirits rise a little as night falls, and if anything, she pays attention to her surroundings all the more intently. Somewhere, who knows? Somewhere she might find the Sign she's looking for. Keenears trots along, sometimes with the elves, sometimes on his own paths, and investigates what scents there are to be fathomed. The wolf's needs are less profound -- he is primarily interested in food. Down and down and down. The path across the expanse of land the elves and wolves have taken leave them no choice. The path before them leads into a shallower place, between rock walls. Lizards, and snakes and the odd prariemouse or hawk might live here, nestled in the walls. Briarcatch stops, and frowns down into the gully, turns to look back over his shoulder, and sighs. ** Back? ** Aureole pauses, lifting a foot to rub at it. ** Dunno... ought to camp soon anyway, we've been going for hours.... ** Briarcatch nods a little, rubbing at his forehead with the back of his hand. ** We'll set the tent up here, then.. but I want to go down there, I think. A little way. Just to see if it's worth going this way at all. If it takes us too long, we might as well find another way. ** Aureole nods sagely, and with a glance, checks on Keenears, who has wandered off to sniff out what game might be hunted here. ** Can't hurt... might help... and we might find something, anyway... ** Briarcatch grins at Aureole. ** Maybe we can call you Climbs-the-Rocks. Or something. ** Aureole splutters a little. But not unkindly. ** Ah, no... ** Reminded again of Cliffdancer, she wrinkles her nose, grins, and turns to drop her gear. The tent set up, and furs unrolled, Briarcatch yet again takes up his spear, stretches, and tries a half-successful howl at the peeks of the moons that shine over head. Grinning sheepishly, he sends ** Well.. coming with me? ** Aureole gives you a wide grin and nods. ** Let's hunt! ** Down and down again. At times, Briarcatch turns back to help Aureole down a drop, or through a crack between pieces of the earth, or boulders. Only to be shown up again and again. Aureole no doubt does not need his help. And so he leads on. Moons' light and shadows have an odd dappling effect here, and the tracks of the animals that live here, are clear, scents easy to pick up without growth to mask them. The wolves, however, cannot make the climb down, and protest, from the ledges above. Aureole never objects to Briarcatch's helping hand, and every so often, helps _him_, too. The exercise seems to please her, and she keeps up deftly, but also pauses every so often to flash a send of assurance up to her wolf-friend. While the two elves busy themselves with following tracks and scent trails inthe rocks below, they miss, perhaps, the breeze that begins 'topside', that ruffles the wolves' fur and makes them whine a little, uncertainly. Maybe the change in the 'feel' of things escapes them, as Briarcatch ducks behind a rock, to pounce out at Aureole, playfully. There is no warning sound, that's for certain. Not until it is too late.. Like a wall, it is. Taller than both the elves would be, if one stood on the other's shoulders. It roars, once it is close enough, whipping around a bend in the gorge, with whiteaps on the tops, and bits of things it has torn free mingled in the dirty water. Muddy brown-blue water. Treelimbs from the mountains, pulverized rock that has not had time to drop through thw water to the bed of the gorge yet. Creatures that have been swept away. And now.. two elves.. Aureole hears the onslaught of water first, but before she can do more than snap her head up and howl, "LOOK OUT!", the wave is upon them. She is knocked headlong off the ledge on which she'd been perching, and she sends in shock and panic. Briarcatch is swept away, with a yelp that leaves his mouth open, causing him to cough and sputter when he fights his way to the surface again. Currents in the wall sweep him into, and then under Aureole, tugged under the water again, before again he pops up.. and whirls away from Aureole. Above, the wolves race along the edge of the gorge. Keenears howls in dismay, trying to catch up with his elf. Battered by passing debris, water filling her lungs, Aureole desperately flails for something onto which to grasp -- including Briarcatch, when the mad rush of water carries him close to her. She sends in fear and startlement, strongly. Briarcatch's send returns as starled.. as -scared-, and as concerned. Ree! He tries to grab her as well, and is caught in the chest by the upsurge of a water-hidden branch, that whirls him off another way. The trip lasts perhaps ten minutes. Maybe less. But the distance covered is immense.. and when the wall dissipates, and disappears, revealing mud instead of water.. both elves are alone. For the longest of times, Aureole lies crumpled where the rush of filthy water deposits her, and struggles to suck breath into her abused lungs. Her head pounds where something must have struck it, but she can't faint. She can't. She has to find... ** ** Briarcatch lies where the water has left -him-, curled around a finger of stone. His lungs hurt. His ribs hurt. And when he is aware enough to notice, there are various brusies that will hurt him as well. Coughing harshly for awhile, to clear the water from his lungs, his send seeks out one elf. ** Ree?! Ree!! ** How far away? You locksend to Briarcatch, Aureole's mind is dim, distant, but there, wobbling out in sporadic wordless waves. You sense in a locksend, Briarcatch, in his own attempt at clearing a head that echoes, even as he sends, sends vague comfort and reassurance. He'll find you. Ree. You locksend ** ** to Briarcatch. Briarcatch sends more to the air and rock, and mud about him, than in any direction in particular. ** Ree?!? ** Woozily, he uncurls from around the rock. No sharp pains.. breathe.. nothing sharp. Lucky? Slowly, he turns to hands and knees, and levers himself upward, inch by inch. ** Ree? ** Aureole at last struggles to her knees, and scowls in dismay at her surroundings. The terrain is utterly unfamiliar to her... and all she can smell is mud, and blood -- her head. She scowls again, touching the side of it gingerly. Dimly she can hear something echoing in her head, but it sends a spike through her mind to try to answer. ** ...... ** How to get down? Up? How to find Ree! The last few inches of straightening send a ting of pain like fire from his scalp to the base of his spine, and then it is gone. Looking himself over, he grimaces, and shakes off a bit of clinging mud. Look for a way.. Where's Briarcatch?! That thought is followed only moments afterwards by, where are the wolves? Carefully, painfully, Aureole totters to her feet, and spins in slow panic, studying her surroundings... how far is she from the gorge? The wolves are as miserable as the elves, and lope, together, in the direction that the water travelled. Now and again, they stop to howl, and scent the air, or lower their noses to the ground. There is a path, slick with mud, and debris strewn, where the mud held on to passing bits. Briarcatch eyes it blearily, considering. And then looks up, and over the surrounding.. nothing. Ree? Out there? Hurt? Gone. Does she dare risk leaving where she is? At the very least, she should get out of the mud... exhaustedly, she does so, tottering for the first reasonably dry ground she can find. Briarcatch is not out of the mud yet, as his path leads him skidding, and then, inevitably, tumbling, heel over shoulder, off his little patch of stone, to land in another muddy place. Again, he sends, frantically, even as he clambers, off-balance, back to his feet, ** Ree! ** Far, far away. ** .......here.... Bri.... ** Briarcatch seizes on that sending, and staggers toward it. It came from.. that rock face? Nono.. that direction though. He wanders, to find the source of the sending, sending himself, although progressively more tiredly. Ree. Always Ree. Distant, the huntress focuses herself on her companion's mental touch. Move towards it, or wait for him? No. He might be hurt... she forces herself to get moving, gritting her teeth as she goes. Her weapons are gone; no telling, now, where they've gotten to in the muck and the mud. High Ones help her if something finds her, out here. But she worries only about finding the elf who was once her guardian, and who is now... what? Briarcatch over a grounded branch, around another turn in the rock.. here? Is she here? Please.. not like Starwing. Despite himself, it is how he sees her, most of the time. Like her mother, beautiful. In her own right. But always with the hint of Starwing about her. And now he's lost her too? On he goes, until his legs fail him, and he sits, without meaning to, but without the energy to move again. ** Ree.. ** She remembers the tales the tribe told her, the tales from her own mother, of Starwing's Walkabout. Of the dangers that befell her and Blackmorn, then. Did her mother have the same anxious bite in her gut, when Blackmorn was bitten by the cat? Without meaning to, at least consciously, Aureole picks up her pace, and sends again, as brightly and as strongly as she can. ** Bri..... ca....! ** Briarcatch is not certain that he hears her, the bits that he hears. Imagining things, perhaps. Smacked your head, Briarcatch? Still water-logged? He looks up at the send, eyes narrowed, to catch movement.. something. Ree? He remembers the tales as well. But Blackmorn could not have been so tired. He scowls then, and berates himself, sending all the while, ** Get up, Briarcatch. You lead the Pathkeepers. Get up and find her.. ** So sending, he manages to his feet again, taks a few steps, and once more sits. Find her? Like this? Her mother ran to escape the humans. Ran again, to escape the rampant forest fire that burned off her black hair. Aureole barely remembers the tales of that, right now, but her feet remember Starwing's swiftness -- for they gained it from her. Ree runs, determined now. She runs for Briarcatch. And sends, as strongly as she can, trying to see if he yet lives.... Briarcatch lives. Not comfortably. But he lives. And draws in breaths, to calm himself, eyes closed. Don't be a fool, Pathkeeper. Up and on your feet. Rising another time, he doesn't make the attempt to walk. Standing is enough, for the moment. Sending requires the rest of his strength. Ree. Strong, swift huntress Ree. He has a duty, to protect her. He made a promise. How much time passes, as she runs, and throws out her anxious sendings? Focused on the running, on the finding, she no longer notices the mud. Her feet land where the ground is surest, and she scrambles upright again quickly each time she skids on slippery muck. ** ........catch! ** Briarcatch straightens, shoulders stiff. ** Ree? ** He heard her that time. He knows it. Shambling steps start him at a walk, and then into an awkward trot. ** -Ree!- ** Toward the send. A long and painful stretch of time creeps by... but, at last, there's a distant figure. ** _Briarcatch_! ** Her send arrows clearly to you, this time. Briarcatch picks up the pace, and picks up and sets down his feet, one after the other. Heavy feet, that are not as sure as they normally are. He stumbles, but forces himself upright again, and the distance between the two elves closes, slowly but surely. Where, in relation to the tent? Not the first idea. What matters is Aureole. He stops though, a pace away from her, perhaps, looking her over from head to toe, and back up again. Critically. ** Are you all right? ** A bit of the stern protector.. Aureole is filthy, and wet, and bruised; blood stains her bright hair. But her eyes are clear and frantic, as she dashes to you, and hugs you fiercely. Briarcatch ooofs audibly, brusied midsection suddenly hugged, but is not slow to return the tight embrace, nose tucked into dirty and bloody hair. Doesn't matter. Only now does Aureole allow herself to tremble. ** Rest... we have to rest... my weapons, I lost my weapons... ?! ** Weapons? The spear! Briarcatch straightens to look, fruitlessly, as if by some odd chance, the spear would have been lodged somewhere nearby, and not splintered somewhere else, as it no doubt is. ** I.. lost my spear, too. ** And then he pushes you away, to look you over, critically. ** Are you -all right-, Ree? Your head.. ** Aureole blinkblinks up at you, eyes glimmeringly liquidly. ** Um... I think I hit my head... um.... ** Briarcatch frowns, and turns your chin a little to the side, to look at the wound. ** What hit you, do you know? ** Lip curled a little, it is not much effort to tear a piece from his vest, this to press over it. The rest of the wet leather is discarded haphazardly. Aureole nibbles her lip. ** Rock. Branch, sometime... I dunno... are _you_ alright? ** She studies you unhappily. Briarcatch meets your eyes, and manages a very wry smile, nodding. ** Heavy, and a little dizzy still. Sore, already. But I'm okay. We're -both- okay. ** He embraces you again, close. You sense in a locksend, Briarcatch's sendning leaks from him, ** Thought I lost you. ** Aureole nuzzles you vigorously. Her sending, by contrast, is small. You locksend ** And I you... what are we going to do....? The wolves....! Where are the wolves...? ** to Briarcatch. Briarcatch sends, looking up toward the walls, ** The wolves will find us.. they'll be able to find us, I'm sure of it. Do you think the tent got taken, too? ** How high was the water, after all? Immense, to two elves. Aureole clings to your arm, even as she peers warily around at the flood-washed plain. ** We, um... better go look... ** The 'fearless' two were on their way to find wolves and tent and whatnot, weren't they? The wolves are on the hunt for the elves, as well, sniffing out the flashes of scent they can find. Whiteridge, in his position as guardian over both, is less fortunate than Keenears, who finds Aureole's bow, the string snapped and tangled around the remains of a sage bush. The wood is taken in his jaws, and worried with faint frustrated growls, free of the plant, before he drags it along with him, after the older wolf. Where there's a bow, there must be an elf. Aureole, with Briarcatch, hangs stubbornly on to his hand as if afraid that something else will come along and sweep them apart once more. Just as stubbornly, she strides along, looking for her wolf-friend, her weapons... and clean water. They need water, to wash their clothes, themselves... To wash and to drink, because when the sun rises, it will get hot again. THe flood will spare the ground some baking, but likely not the elves. As he walks, he tightens his grip on Aureole's hand, and steals sidelong glances at her. Huntress Ree, dirty and bloody, and wet, but who is still with him. Who came back to find him. Silver-haired and starry-eyed, and -real-. He smiles, curiously, then turns his attention forward, walking on. Over rocks and debris left behind, the wolves trot and lope. Whiteridge stops to nose at a drowned long-ear, sneezess, and pads on. And then? There! On the wind that blows across the edge of grass and rock, is the unmistakeable scent of wet elf! Letting out a short yip, and then a longer howl, he tears off, followed at a distance, though no less enthusiastically, by Keenears, with his bow. Down the side of a slope, and tumbling toward the figures below. Aureole gives a tired but no less happy for that shriek, and tugs Briarcatch after her. ** They're alright! They're ALRIGHT! ** They are as excited to see the elves as Aureole is to see them, and she is quickly knocked over and snuffled and sniffed at thoroughly, by both wolves. Briarcatch too is unbalanced and toppled, though his sniffing is more cursory. Aureole hugs her beloved Keenears ecstatically, and gives an exhausted giggle as she sees the bow the creature dragged along with him. ** Puckernuts... gotta fix that... ** Briarcatch chuckles, pushing Whiteridge's muzzle away and deflecting a well-meant lick. ** When we get home.. we should find a place to dry out though, before our leathers stick to us forever. ** Aureole bobs her head. ** I hate mud, ** she declares fastidiously. ** Where, though? We need our tent...! ** Briarcatch glances up the slope the wolves came down, skeptically. It isn't all that steep, but steep enough to look less than inviting to the weary. ** Feel like climbing? ** Aureole sighs, softly. ** Either that, or find a way around... ** Keenears, beside her, yurfs, and nuzzles her vociferously. Briarcatch suggests hopefully, "Maybe there's a cave. Just for a little while. To rest." Aureole nods, but eyes Keenears and the much older Whiteridge, dubiously. ** Do you two want to try to climb again? ** She skitches Keenears all over, then scoops up her bow and frowns at it. No string. How is she going to get this up the cliff, with just one hand? Whiteridge, by way of answer, lies down. Aureole purses her lips. Then looks up at Briarcatch. ** I don't think the wolves want to try this... ** Briarcatch nods. ** A cave then? Like at home.. only.. not. ** [And, as the pair of Plainsrunners go searching for a cave in which to shelter, we end the log.]