Log Date: 2/6/96
Log Intro: 

[NOTE: This log was taken by Ekuar's player. Part 3 of 3.]

This begins right where the last log left off: with Rayek having fled and
fallen into a crevice atop the glacier, ending with this exchange between
Ekuar and Ember:

Ekuar fixes his eyes on Ember's, deep, ancient brown on youthful
blue-green. His mind touches hers, intent and candid. ** You did nothing
wrong. You are not to blame. Please, know this as the truth. ** There are
no layers to this send, it's a pure, convinced sense of rightness. ** I
can't bear to see you bring pain on yourself. Just like Brownskin does. **
He smiles gently.

Ember smiles tiredly. ** All right. I believe you, old friend. **


[And now, the continuation. :) ]

====================================

Ekuar smiles reassuringly at Ember and looks vaguely about for his staff,
cast aside where it was flung earlier from the air.

Ember sighs, straightening, and fetches Ekuar's staff for him, with a small
smile. "Here you go."

Ekuar grasps the familiar object gratefully, leaning on it with weary
determination. "Thank you, my dear. I'm--" he looks at the ground, a little
bashfully-- "--I'm sorry, if my urging you both to go fetch it had...
unexpected, eh, consequences."

Ember shakes her head slowly. ** No matter. ** A hint of a smile works into
the sending. ** I'm sure this wasn't what you had planned. **

Petalwing, high up on the glacier now, continues to spit goo, till it
vanishes up over the ridge.

Ekuar cocks his head, looking at Ember, dark eyes shining with a mixture of
affection, sorrow, and humor, his gaze rich and layered. "Eh! No," is all
he says, softly. "No, indeed."

Ember smiles a little more, then looks up, into the distance. "Well. We
should go after him."

Ekuar straightens his thin frame. "The little preserver's trail ought to,
eh, lead us the way we ought to go." He peers into the sky dubiously. "I
only hope my dear Brownskin doesn't fly too high or too far..." He begins
to move, doggedly lopsided, following the splootches of wrapstuff.

Ember stares irritably up at the mountains surrounding the valley. "Me too.
It's a lot easier for him to get up over those than it is for us." She
follows along, keeping pace with the old elf, one hand steady on her spear.

Ekuar bobs his head in agreement, his face reflecting his clear pride in
Rayek's abilities. "Ah, me. And to think, it seems like no time at all
since I was first teaching him to, eh, float rocks and things. What a lad."
His staff catches on a small tussock of grass, and he stumbles, but shifts
his weight and avoids a fall with the ease of long practice.

Ember reaches out a hand, automatically, then sees you have everything
under control, and keeps on her way, not far from you. "He's always been
able to fly, as long as I've known him. I guess that's good... since he
saved Father's life."

Higher and higher up the glacier, it gets progressively colder. More and
more snow begins to line the ground, and the ascent gets more difficult.
But Petalwing's patches of wrapstuff are still findable, often creatively
draped between rocks and swinging in gusts of wind.

Ekuar picks his way over an uneven stretch of the path, heading toward a
tell-tale patch of white in the near distance. "My Brownskin always had so
much potential," he says in pleasant reminiscence. Despite all of the
emotional turmoil he's been through on Rayek's behalf in the past hours,
the old elf's voice holds nothing but care for his errant lad. "Such a fast
learner! Eh! I'd show him things, and he'd catch onto them like he was
starving and they were fresh food!"

A half day's travel, moving leisurely, brings you to the farthest north end
of the quiet valley.

Glacier
A longer journey will bring you to the top of the ancient, dying glacier,
from whence the valley is visible from end to end. Here, though, there is
rich blue ice, packed down in glittering sheets that catch morning sun and
challenge its brightness. Older, melting snow, crumbles at the foot of the
glacier, less glorious, more a testimony to time, and from that snow runs
the thick stream that feeds the valley with needed water. The ice curves
and turns, passageways carved out from snows melted away, leaving
precarious footing and the dangers of an unexpected collapse of the slowly
rotting structure.

Ember chuckles softly, shaking her head. "He learned hunting quickly
enough, too. Hunting /our/ way, I mean. Always has to be the best..."

More and more splotches of wrapstuff, occasionally going in errant circles
-- doesn't the bug ever keep to a straight line? But, eventually, sharp
Wolfrider eyes can spot footprints in the snow. Although snow-blurred, for
it's flurrying up here, the tracks _are_ fresh...

Ekuar nods slowly and earnestly, panting a bit from the effort of
travelling now. "He causes himself-- eh-- a lot of pain, does my boy.
Pushing himself. Arguing with himself. Hurting himself."

"Argues with everyo -- ah! Tracks, finally. Too cursed cold to scent up
here, is the problem." Ember kneels, studying the snow-drifted tracks.
"They're fresh, though. Still some scent left. We'll find him yet..."

Ekuar leans heavily on his staff, watching Ember with wide eyes. "Tracks?"
he asks, half to himself. "Not gliding...?"

Ekuar concentrates for a moment, his mind reaching out with a wordless,
anxious query, seeking the familiar patterns that mean >Rayek<. ** <<???>>
**

>From a distance, comes a tiny, piping voice, yelling at the top of
Preserver lungs.

Ember straightens, trailing her fingers through the snow. "Not gliding. Not
even he can glide forever, Ekuar. He's not like the Chosen." Like Ember's
daughter. She glances up. "Eh? Bug?"

Ekuar squints uneasily into the distance and hobbles toward the little
noise. "Preserver? Brownskin?"

Ember matches Ekuar's pace, more out of respect for the old one than a need
to go so slowly, listening to the piping Preserver worriedly.

Ekuar calls out, peering through a wind that whips soft snow into his face:
"Preserver! Did you lose him, little one?"

Wind gusts, making it difficult to catch the tiny shriek. Were one to come,
the wind would _not_ obscure an answering send... but none comes. Finally,
the Preserver itself comes arrowing into view, shrilling frantically.
/EEEEEEEEEE! Highthings! Highthings! Help help help help!/

Ember lifts up a hand for the bug. "What's wrong, Petalwing?"

Petalwing flitflitflits into view, and grabs a lock of Ember's hair,
pulling hysterically. /Comecomecome! Sharpdark highthing fall down
hideyhole! EEEEEEEEE!/

Ekuar stops, leaning exhaustedly on his staff, his eyes dilating with
alarm. "Fell?" is all he manages, breathless.

Ember yelps, trying to grab Petalwing. "My /hair/, you ... fell? Where?"

Petalwing shrills anxiously and flits off once more through the darkening air.

Ember hollers, "Bug, wait -up-! We don't all have wings!" Offering Ekuar a
hand, she moves forward again.

Ekuar bends, hanging his head, pulling in air. "Go ahead-- huntress.
You're-- faster. I'll be right after." He looks up, eyes agleam with worry.

Ember hesitates, searching Ekuar's face, and then, wordlessly, nods, taking
off after the preserver in a lithe, flat-out run. ** I'll be back as soon
as I can, Ekuar. **

Ekuar nods silently, gathering his strength.

Petalwing darts back into view long enough to shriek anxiously, tug Ember's
hair, and dart off again.

Ekuar's mind reaches out once more as the huntress springs ahead, his
thoughts honed to fearful clarity: ** <<Brownskin... answer?>> **

There is no response, at least not immediately. But then, dimly, comes a
sent perception of... grief. Shock. Enough to give a direction, through the
snow.

Ember send-snarls -- fortunately the bug can't hear it -- ** I'm moving as
fast as I /can/, Petalwing. What's /wrong/? ** A moment or two later she
disappears from sight, into the darkness after the bug.

Ekuar seizes on the weak mind-touch thankfully, redirecting it in an open
send to Ember, giving her the direction.

Ember's returning send is a flash of thanks, her footsteps altering to that
direction.

Ekuar murmurs to himself as he musters his strength and begins trudging in
Ember's path, "Live, my Brownskin. That's all I ask..."

There come a few more scattered footprints, and then, as Ember hastens
onward, a sudden wide swatch of tumbled snow that plunges abruptly down
into blackness. There, too, is Rayek's spear, very near the edge of the
hole, and Petalwing shrieking frantically.

Ember lets out a curse, stumbling, then backpedaling rapidly. "For
Timmorn's sake, Petalwing, be QUIET!!!" More tentatively, as she flattens
out on her belly and moves forward again, ** Rayek? **

>From down in the hole, comes a groggy, half-wild sending, that takes a
moment to focus. ** No....! Shouldn't... be here... go 'way....! **

Ember snorts. ** Right. And let you freeze your sorry hindquarters off. It
might be tempting, Glider, but I'm not going to do it. Petalw -- aaagh. **
"Petalwing, make wrapstuff. I need a rope."

Petalwing blinkblinkblinks, then hastily starts spooting goo, playing with
it to get it into rope-shape and rope-thickness. There is no answer, from
the depths of the hole.

Ember, meanwhile, scoots back again to look around for something,
presumably a rock, which she can attach the rope to once it's done. ** Talk
to me, airwalker. **

A hunched shape comes into view through light gusts of snow. It's Ekuar,
moving sturdily on, limping more strongly but still coming forward.

** Em..... ber? No! No, you can't! ** The sending from the hole is
scattered, threaded through with a heavy, stunned pain. ** I should leave
you! **

"Why," Ember implores of the sky, "did I come here?" ** Rayek, you did
leave, you zwoot. And you fell down a hole and hurt yourself, and now I get
to put you back together. ** "Petalwing, are you done yet?"

Petalwing spits a few more lengths of wrapstuff, and proclaims, /Rope!/

** _No!_ Please, no, I... ** Rayek's sending trails off into a burst of
wordless remorse, before trailing off again into silence.

Ember says "Thank you, bug." She finds an appropriate rock, looping the
rope around it and yanking a few times to test its strength. "Very good."

Petalwing wrings its tiny hands fretfully, now. /Is skinny hideyhole!
Sharpdark highthing stuck!/

Hard on the heels of that, ** Oh ... (*#$###% ... just stay awake, Rayek. **

Ekuar nears the edge of the hole and stops, eyes huge as he takes in the
situation. He sends, very carefully, with paternal firmness and patience,
** Dear one. We're bringing you up. Stay very still, be easy. Do you
understand? **

Ember mmms. "Actually, I was going down." One more tug on the rope, and
then she tosses it over the edge of the hole, clambering down easily. **
Timmorn's blood, it's cold. **

Rayek sends up, muzzily, but clearly aghast, ** Ekuar?! ........ you
can't!...... **

Ekuar's mind softens, but paradoxically becomes stronger, enveloping
Rayek's thoughts in comfort and determination... leavened, as always, with
the elder's ever-present affectionate humor. ** We can, Brownskin. And we
will. This is one time I will not regret making a decision about your life
without consulting you. Hm? Easy, now. **

Petalwing flitters about the edge of the hole as Ember begins her climb
downward, and reminds her anxiously, /Is skinnytight hideyhole!/

Ember considers the crack for a few moments, then neatly backs into it,
sliding down in a somewhat graceful fashion, towards Rayek, wriggling her
slender form down until she's almost, but not quite, as stuck as Rayek
himself. And then she considers him. "Bug, is there enough room for you to
get /around/ him, loop another short rope around him." To Rayek, she adds,
"This is going to hurt."

Ekuar sends to Ember, carefully screening his thoughts from Rayek: ** Is
he-- all right? **

Ember's reply is irritable, if private. ** Something's broken, I think.
He'll be all right. Teach him to go running off. **

Ekuar's thoughts flash back to Ember, all warmth and concern: ** You be
careful, now, child... I could never pull the both of you up. **

Deep in the hole, there's barely anything visible of the airwalker except
the top of his dark head, and one brown hand, where his arm has apparently
gotten wedged up beside him. He looks up, blearily, as Ember's descending
form blots out what little light there is in the bottom of the crack.

Ember mmmphs quietly, sending again to Ekuar. ** I won't get stuck. I'm
even thinner than he is. And more nimble. **

Petalwing dives in the hole as neatly as it can, almost getting its wings
in Ember's face. /Petalwing make rope for sharpdark highthing!/ it
declares, and climbs its way downward.

Ember wrinkles her nose, and would bat at Petalwing had she more room. As
it is, she waits, propped between the ice walls, muttering to herself.

Rayek sends, blurrily, something that tries to be forceful command. Ember
shouldn't... be here. Then, the sending fades, as Petalwing after several
moments comes squirming its way back up, tugging another wrapstuff rope
with it.

Ekuar stands patiently, braced on his staff, peering down into the crevice.
His sending is open, despite being meant largely for Rayek: ** Easy.
Easy... all will be well soon. ** Worry is submerged beneath a strong layer
of comfort and reassurance.

Ember grins. "Good bug." Still propped, using her legs to support her, she
knots the sticky rope, and then gestures for the bug to spoot another bit
to fasten the knot even tighter, and then, hand over hand, she climbs back
up. ** Ready down there, airwalker? **

No answer from Rayek, as Petalwing flits up into the air.

Ember says "Well. Take that as a yes."

Ember repeats, in case Rayek's forgotten, ** This'll hurt. Don't yell. Don'
want to bring snow down on you. ** And then, with something apologetic in
the send, she wraps the rope around her hands and begins, carefully, to
pull upwards.

As Ember climbs back up, more snow is dislodged, falling down into the open
hole. Petalwing hovers near the two highthings... then, as Ember begins to
tug, there comes a sharp, hoarse gasp from down in the hole.

Ekuar watches intently, starting at the noise from the crevice. **
Brownskin-- are you all right? **

Ember's hands remain as steady as they can, though Rayek is not a light
weight for the slender wolfrider. ** Sorry, airwalker...not trying to
hurt... **

Ekuar looks hopefully at Ember, taking a shuffling step toward her through
the snow. "Maybe I can help pull...?"

** I'm... ** The sending from the hole wavers, and dims. Another tug, and a
louder gasp from below is abruptly muffled as snow from the edge of the
crack ploffs downward.

Ember sendpants, ** Help would be good, if you can. **

Petalwing puts in, /Petalwing help pull?/ Hopefully, it grabs part of the
wrapstuff rope.

Ekuar quickly moves to Ember's side, tucking the staff against his body in
his customary manner, bracing the wooden leg in a wide stance. He grips the
rope with his single hand, knuckles paling as he holds tight. "I can try,"
he says, determined. "Can't let anything happen to Brownskin."

Petalwing pouts, trying to tug with all its might. /Sharpdark highthing all
stuck no do floatyfires,/ it wails, despondently.

Ember grins a bit. "Thank, Petalwing. He'll be /fine/, Ekuar." Ember is
actually certain of this. Just irritated. On cue, she pulls again, with
Ekuar and Petalwing's help.

Ekuar leans into the effort, thin muscles knotting as he adds all the force
he can.

Within the hole, Rayek cries out, harshly, and there comes a bit of answer
along the wrapstuff rope. But not enough to bring the trapped elf into air
and freedom.

Ekuar sends, the physical effort coloring his mindtouch with streaks and
flashes of color: ** Brownskin... can you use your magic at all? Even a bit
of an upward push...? **

Rayek sends openly ** ...........? Magic.........? You...... didn't want
me.... floating.... **

Ember frowns down the crack. ** I think we can get him, but it's going to
take one good hard yank, and I'm afraid we'll /hurt/ him more... **

Rayek's sending, curiously insubstantial, drifts off into grayness.

"Wait, child. Let's see if his magic can help us, hm?" Ekuar grips the rope
tighter and sends, ** Dear one. This is important... If you can help at
all... If there's any power left to you... Come up to us. **

Ekuar frowns anxiously at the lack of 'there-ness' at the receiving end of
his mindtouch. Probing, reaching: ** Brownskin...! **

Ember shakes her head. ** I think he passed out, Ekuar. Which is just as
well. He can't hurt as much if he's not awake. Shall we try? **

A mental.... jerk, as of Rayek suddenly, dazedly, snapping out of sleep. **
Fl..... float? Float.... **

Ekuar sends strongly, trying to burrow beneath the fog to reach Rayek and
be understood: ** Yes. Float, just a bit. To help us lift you. Can you try?
**

Down in the hole, there comes a weak, watery glimmer.

Ekuar casts a worried, warning look to Ember. "Let's see if he can help us,
first."

Ember nods, a trifle impatiently.

Ekuar reaches out mentally yet again, trying to slip his own thought's
energy around Rayek like a supporting sling. ** Try. Lean on me... **

The weight on the rope lessens, just a little, but the light in the hole
flickers on and off.

Ekuar digs in his good foot, leaning against the rope again. "Hurry!" he
says, urgently pulling.

Ember twists the rope around her hands, pulling again, as hard and as
quickly as she can.

The glimmer keeps up, and as Ember and Ekuar tug, more snow filters down
into the hole. But eventually, with painful slowness, Rayek's head and
shoulders breach the top of the opening.

Ekuar gasps for breath, his eyes lighting up. "We've got you!" he pants,
leaning and pulling.

Ember reaches out to grab an arm, as soon as one should appear, and hauls
the unfortunate Sun Villager back with her. Probably on top of her. That's
gotta feel good.

Rayek, leathers and hair encrusted with snow, at last is tugge
d up into the open air. He cries out, again, as his right leg comes up crookedly
 after the rest of him.

Once the tension on the rope is slackened, Ekuar overbalances and topples back i
nto the snow with a single arm flailing. Rolling over in the snow, he sets to cl
ambering upright again, eyes fixed on Rayek.

Ember sends openly ** /Puckernuts/! **

Ember surveys Rayek's leg, and closes her eyes. ** And no healer, ** she
sends tiredly. ** I have none of my mother's skill. **

Rayek's eyes are clamped shut, and his teeth gritted. One hand fumbles
towards his thigh, as he slumps against Ember, shuddering violently.

Ekuar retrieves his staff and hobbles toward the sprawled figures.
"Brownskin!" His voice is awash with joy, despite Rayek's leg. "I thought
we might lose you!" He drops to his knee beside the angular elf and the
Wolfrider, wooden leg crookedly askew.

Petalwing flitters in anxious circles over the elves, chattering, /Back to
snugsafe campplace! Is no good to be in nastybad whitestuff!/

Ekuar rests his hand on Rayek's arm, gently, seeking reassurance of his
student's continued existence through touch. To Ember, he says quietly,
"Can you-- can we-- carry him back? Eh-- drag him, even? We need to get him
warm, and go to your tribe at once. No time to lose."

Ember stares bleakly at Rayek. "You weigh more," she says irritably, "than
the Glider does. Petalwing, can he feel pain if he's wrapstuffed?"

Rayek snaps his eyes open, and blurts out, "Shouldn't come...! Shouldn't...."

Petalwing pipes anxiously, /Petalwing put sharpdark highthing in wrapstuff
when Homeplace fall. Sharpdark highthing squashed! Petalwing wrapstuff
then./

Ekuar lays a gnarled finger very lightly across Rayek's lips. ** Hush. You
must be easy, dear one. **

Ember gestures with a finger. "Make wrapstuff, then, please." To Rayek,
"I'll unwrap you at the camp, if you want, but I /really/ don't want to
have to haul a squirming elf back there."

Ekuar strokes Rayek's hair back from his forehead with a soothing hand.

Petalwing, knowing an order when it hears one, promptly begins wrapstuffing
the wounded Rayek -- who gasps, and struggles, eyes wild.

Ember sends, firmly. ** Rayek. I promise that I won't keep you like this.
But you're hurt, it's a long way back to camp, and I /can't/ carry you all
that way. Nor can Ekuar. Do you really want him to have to stay out in this
freezing weather all night? **

Ekuar bends low to Rayek, touching his pale cheek to the dark one. A soft,
low send: ** I'm here. I'll take care of you. **

Rayek jerks, then, and sends dimly, ** Ekuar...? ** He blinks, then,
perhaps mercifully, abruptly faints. Petalwing briskly finishes wrapping
him.

Ekuar gropes about for his staff, shivering a little as he climbs wearily
to his feet; he leans down and pushes the wooden leg back into proper
alignment.

Ember, ferverently, says, "Thanks, Petalwing," and then crouches, studying
Rayek's wrapped form with dark eyes. "Poor old Chop," she whispers quietly,
and then, with an audible grunt, lifts Rayek's form, dropping him over her
shoulder in something resembling a fireman's carry. "Whhhuf!"

Ekuar falls in behind Ember, hobbling along in her tracks, his face drawn
and solemn.

You make your way down from the glacier, heading back into the forests of
the valley.

Quiet Valley
Caught in a deep plunge between the mountains, the valley gives notice of
its glacier-born heritage with high rock walls that, though enclosing,
provide a feeling of safety. The valley's floor is wide, mostly flat,
evergreen forest nourished with silt, grown up in thousands of years of
solitude. From the north flows a glacier-fed stream, water murky with dirt,
but pure and sweet when left to settle. The creatures here, undisturbed for
millennia, have grown to enormous sizes and to strange new shapes,
interbreeding and inbreeding taking a certain toll.

By the time camp is reached -- near dawn, no doubt -- Ember is quite possibly th
e grouchiest wolfrider Ekuar has ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. Not ung
ently, she places the Rayek bundle on the ground, and pinches the bridge of her
nose. "I," she says, to Ekuar in particular, but the tone is to the world in gen
eral, "am not unwrapping him."

Petalwing follows the elves down off the glacier, tiredly, and peers from
face to face.

Ekuar nods meekly, settling himself on the ground close to the bundle,
looking up at Ember with gratitude palpable in his face and eyes. "Thank
you," he whispers earnestly. "Thank you, child, for looking after him...
for-- eh! For putting up with him. I know it's hard for you."

Ember opens her eyes to look at Ekuar, a trace of amusement on her face.
"You can unwrap him," she says, "but last time I unwrapped somebody from
wrapstuff, I Recognized him."

Ekuar's eyes widen, a flash of humor making them sparkle. "Oh! I see." He
smiles guilelessly at her. "Best leave him to me, then?"

"I don't," Ember says, wryly, "want to start a trend."

Ekuar tips his head, looking affectionately at the maiden. "He should be
that lucky," he says gently.

Ember stares at Ekuar a trifle incredulously. "I've already Recognized one
insufferably arrogant Glider, Ekuar. Don't link me with another." She
shoots the bundle a dirty look. "At least Sar was interested in me
beforehand."

Ekuar gives an apologetic shrug, responding, "Pretty child. Brownskin was
interested as well, I know he was. It's just that..." He sighs, and glances
down at the cocooned form. "I'm afraid he doesn't... like himself. Very
much. You see?" He looks up again, eyes wide and honest. "And if he cannot
like himself, cannot love himself, he thinks no one else ought to be able
to love him either."

Ember sighs a little. "I don't understand," she admits. "He seems to...seek
approval in all that he does. How to make him see that it's only his own
approval that really matters...?" There's a pause, and then, "He loves
Mother."

Ekuar nods in grave agreement. "Eh, yes. And he struggles against her for
that reason. In his eyes, my dear, he is not worthy of the affection of
someone as wonderful as your mother. And yet he longs for her. Always
struggling, always hurting." He shakes his head. "You go rest, hm? And then
we'd best head for your people."

Ember sighs, and nods, climbing into the shelter. ** Good night...**

Ekuar watches the Wolfrider slip into the rock chamber, and then returns
his gaze to the still shape beneath the wrappings. He rests one hand upon
it, considering deeply.

After a long, silent time of thought, the ancient elf shakes his head once.
** Rest, dearest Brownskin, ** he sends, whether or not the quiet form can
understand. ** Rest, sleep, without pain. Without fear. I'll have to wake
you soon enough. ** And with that, Ekuar stretches out beside the cocoon
and slips his arm around it, resting his head comfortably, dozing close to
his friend.


====================================

[End log.]