Log Date: May 1995 [Log Intro] As y'all might recall, Rillwhisper was sick this past Whitecold in the Holt, making your chieftess fretful and irritable and downright ornery. One of the things that was worrying Rill was the unusually long ongoing presence of Strongbow - don't get Rill wrong, she is absolutely delighted to have S'bow around, but she HAS been rather worried that the archer has been in her Holt this long without saying word one about his own Holt, or his lifemate Moonshade, unless said words are dragged out of him by Rillwhisper. Due to the lengthy absence of several of the Holt's adults (Crystal and Acorn off on a long visit to Ravenholt, and Zalen, Dawn, Silversong, Brightmark, Woodhawk, Joy, and Pwyll all gone to Blue Mountain or near abouts), Strongbow has taken it upon himself to help hunt and guard at Willowholt, claiming to Rillwhisper that he is needed here, and that his Holt will do without him. But after most of the elves that had gone to Blue Mountain start coming home, Rillwhisper notes Strongbow's prolonged absence, and goes out looking for him..... [NOTE: Most of this was logged by Rillwhisper, with some dialog and sendings pasted in from a log of Trollkiller's. Most room descs have been deleted - you guys should know what the Holt looks like by now. ;) ] ---------- Strongbow ...prowls at the outside edge of the itchgrass, nose twitching occasionally, hair unkempt and more thorny looking even than usual, bow over shoulder at ready, slightly pale. His eyes flick from shadow to shadow in the evening light, trying to catch sight of some phantom meal. It's early twilight in the Willowholt, and the place is peaceful, with the occasional curious wolf emerging from the dens to explore the commencing night. Some of the elves emerge, too, and one of them is Rillwhisper, coming around the edge of the pond with her big golden she-wolf padding drowsily beside her. Rillwhisper yawns drowsily, looking relaxed and more pleased than she has in several eights of days. She crouches by the pond and splashes water on her face, to wake up... but Sunruff sniffs the air, and her ears flick up. She whurfles lowly, turning her gaze out through the protective circle interwoven with the marsh foliage. Strongbow pauses for a moment: did he hear something? His eyes search the patches of darkness, then stray out over the lake. He recedes, eyes widening at the presence of one of the elves he's been avoiding...why? Fuzzy on that...He readjusts his bow on his shoulder, less silent than he should be, nose twitching with scents he can't filter into reason. Rillwhisper looks up, blinks, then sniffs the breeze herself. Ah, Strongbow's come this way...? She considers, and straightens. About time she had a word with him. She sends softly, ** Archer? ** Strongbow's gaze liquifies, dark brown shimmering in the shade. He looks past the chieftess at the sunset on the lake, then into the brush at either side of himself. He takes another step back; as he does so, the shadows at his legs take form and become grasses, whispering against one another and against the archer's skin with his movement. He stops, startled by the noise, stock still, shivering slightly in sudden unseasonal cold. Rillwhisper glances over, peering into the deepening shadows. She draws closer, unruffled by the scent of the itchgrass here in the air. ** Strongbow, are you here? ** Sunruff yurfs, short, sharp, and low, sniffing around near her elf-friend. The wolf's muzzle wrinkles a little, in distaste at the flavor of a scent she picks up. Rillwhisper glances at her wolf in bemusement, then turns back, looking for some telltale glimmer of dark red-violet hair, and wondering in some concern why the archer doesn't answer her, if he's in sending range.... Strongbow decides his best move is to stay still, as every move he's made so far has betrayed him. Instead he sends, intending clarity and strength to come through in it, the hunter after his prey. What it amounts to is a fuzzy, muddled assent: ** Hunting. ** Rillwhisper starts following the scent trail around the circle of itchgrass and trees and bushes, peering out occasionally into the reaches of the marsh. But she straightens at the sending, and stiffens - something's odd. ** Strongbow? You don't sound right... are you alright? ** Sunruff whines, just a tiny bit, sidestepping away from the scent she doesn't like. Rillwhisper continues, hopping up briefly on the big rock by the pond's edge to get a better vantage point, ** With almost everyone home, I wanted to talk to you... you've been hiding lately. Strongbow? ** Rillwhisper, poised on the rock, is lit from the side by the descending Daystar's light filtering through the Old Willow's huge branches. Strongbow scowls at himself, unhappy with his sending. What's wrong with his head? ** Deer trail... ** His nose tells him there's hunting around here. He just hasn't found it. He crouches, holding still, grasses whispering again with the movement. ** Think I've got a trail...lots of them. ** His sending is clear enough, but leaks a few images...a trail that he can scent for half a night, and then lose, that returns in a few days, circling the holt neatly. Rillwhisper drops lightly off the rock as she marks the shadow she's looking for. She draws nearer, agreeing, ** We could use some meat... ** Her eyes narrow slightly, though. Strongbow nods slightly to himself, crouching in the grasses. ** Can you scent them? I had the trail last right here... ** Rillwhisper pads up quietly behind you, and frowns softly to herself as the scent that had made her wolf back off reaches her. Rillwhisper comes around to your line of sight, stepping through the leaves and adroitly avoiding the tendrils of the itchgrass - a small open place in the circle, this, just enough for an elf to get through. She frowns, though, to find you here, and tells you, ** All I scent is you and the itchgrass, archer.... tree-horns don't like it. ** Strongbow lifts his head to scent the air, a bit of light glinting redly in his hair, and blinks, lifting out of his crouch, shivering slightly with a sudden scarlet flush. ** I think they were trailing downwind... ** He shakes his head. Rillwhisper comes up to you, studying you searchingly. Strongbow The usually steady archer valiantly tries to keep his dark brown, liquid gaze focused, fighting the urge to let his eyes slide from side to side, flickering at any sign of movement. The knotted band of spotted leather about his forehead is shadowed by locks of damp violet-brown hair, reflecting redly in the light along with the rest of his thistly mane. Tall among Wolfriders and long of line and sinew, the hunter glints in his eyes and is chiseled into his long face. His jaw is lined with a thin, sharp shadow of brown facefur, peaking slightly at either side of his mouth, accentuating his scowl as well as his smile. His skin is pale, then flushes scarlet, then pales again. Slung over one shoulder, the arc of his bow mismatches the chiseled lines of his face, torso, and legs. Strongbow wears a split-front tunic of forest green leather, accented in dun and lighter green, blending well into forest shadow -- yet his movements aren't as silent as they should be. A narrow brown belt cinches the tunic about his waist and is echoed by a sling that holds his quiver over his back. High, soft boots cover his long legs up to midthigh, not meeting the bottom of his tunic by a full handspan. He scents the air nervously, nose twitching. Strongbow blinks softly, then gazes past you; after a moment his eyes flicker away, into the shadows. ** Maybe I've lost them for good this time.. ** He scowls, confused. A group of game that large shouldn't be easy to lose. Rillwhisper frowns again, and steps to your side, reaching a hand for your shoulder. Rillwhisper sends openly ** Strongbow... look at me. ** Strongbow twitches, shaking his head slightly, and looks at you, though not into your eyes so much as past them. His skin radiates heat through the leather of his tunic, and is damp near his neck where the tunic parts. Rillwhisper hisses, moving her hand up to your forehead. "High Ones! Strongbow, how long have you been like this?" Strongbow steps back, grasses whistling with the motion. ** Hunting? ** His eyes widen a little and focus on yours. ** The branch-horns...here when the grasses started to turn... ** He wavers a bit and stops moving, the sound disorienting him. Rillwhisper's green eyes go intent, anxious, as she looks you up and down. Her nostrils flare a bit at the thick scent of illness on you, but she takes your arm and tugs at you gently. ** Not like this, you're not. Come on. ** Strongbow's scowl deepens. ** The holt could use the meat... ** His eyes glaze a little, and he blinks, as if to clear them. ** You said the others returned...? ** Even so he lets himself be led from the itchgrass, as if he doesn't really believe his hunt is being stopped. Rillwhisper nods and sighs, guiding you around the edge of the pond. ** Silversong, Dawn and Zalen, and their cubs, and Duskshadow. Strongbow, how do you feel? ** Her stance has gone tense, as she fights down the urge to duck her shoulders under your arm to help you walk. Sunruff whines lowly, watching the two elves. Strongbow stops at the edge of the pond, scenting, head tilted back. ** I can't have lost them. I could have marked the trail in my sleep with dreamberries tied under my nose. ** His eyes take on a narrow smile for a moment, then scowl again. ** That mountain...snake's nest...they're all right? ** His query is muddled; he knows what he wants to ask, and for this one time wanting to use the words to ask it, of course the words won't seem to come out right. He drops his head, squinting out over the pond, as if the treehorns might materialize there. Rillwhisper almost smiles. ** You don't eat dreamberries, archer. ** She frowns and then adds, ** Joy and Pwyll seem saddened somehow, I haven't asked how. The others seem alright. You haven't answered my question. ** Strongbow almost returns the smile. ** Don't have to eat dreamberries to scent them... ** The hint of wry gladness in his eyes fades into haze. He pauses, nose wrinkling, and coughs, stifling it, wincing with the sound. ** I feel well enough for having been on hunt this long...Joy and Pwyll...saddened? ** His sends move from thought to thought, continuity disturbed. Rillwhisper nods, solemnly, replying, "A lot happened in the Mountain, or so I'm given to understand." She sighs. "Strongbow, you're burning up. Do you realize that?" Strongbow shivers, paling. He takes a step, vaguely aware that you're leading him somewhere, perhaps back to his lost trail on the branch-horns. ** Just overheated...awake too long. ** Rillwhisper sends to the whole tribe ** Silversong! Silversong, are you awake? ** Rillwhisper guides you carefully around the edge of the pond. You poke your way through the tall pond grasses, into the trees. West Bank of the Pond This narrow strip of a path runs wedged on one side by closely tangled young trees, and on the other by the thick grasses surrounding the nearby small pond. Just overhead, most of the tangle of branches comes from the huge gnarled willow tree that dominates most of the surroundings. The shadows lengthen as the Daystar slowly approaches the horizon. The Holt slowly comes to life. Obvious exits: Pond Branches Clearing Around the Pond Strongbow comes round the curve of the pond from its Hubward bank. Strongbow has arrived. You step through the trees and into the clearing by the Old Willow. Clearing by the Old Willow(#123RHJa) This clearing, last among the trees before the land changes slowly to marshes, is dominated by an impossibly massive willow tree. Much of the ancient tree is hidden by its ever-blowing fronds, which veil it and the entire clearing in quiet, green-grey shadows. The air holds a rich mix of scents: water and wood, elf-scent and wolf-scent, earth and the occasional whiff of fire. The fallen log by the tree, the quietly gurgling 'fountain' off to one side, the willow's gnarled roots, and even the soft earth underfoot encourage one to sit and sing or speak or send... or just to watch and listen. The entire area is tinged with a gentle, subtle sense of magic and age, centered upon the giant tree. To the south, the land slopes gently uphill. A path runs from Sun-Goes-Up to Sun-Goes-Down, with the nearby marshes lying off in the former direction and the more secluded parts of the Holt in the latter. Just off to the northeast, past the fountain, is a small pond. Contents: Ashes Kraheera Willowpaw Sunhowler Hollow log Squirrel Obvious exits: Branch Old Willow Hillside Path Starwillow Copse Marsh Pond Strongbow emerges from the trees by the nearby pond. Strongbow has arrived. Silversong locksends ** Mm? Rill? What? ** Rillwhisper pauses, her hand still gripping your arm lightly, and frowns around through the trees. You locksend ** Silvie... something's wrong with Strongbow. He smells sick, he's burning up, and I don't think he knows he's ill. Can you come? ** to Silversong. Silversong locksends ** Yes... I'll be there as quick as I can be. ** Rillwhisper asks you intently, "How long _have_ you been awake, archer?" From the branch above, Silversong climbs out of the Old Willow's heart. From the branch above, Silversong swings down off the branch to the clearing below. Silversong drops down from the branch above. Silversong has arrived. Strongbow stalks along with the chieftess, head lowered and then raised to scent the air, eyes alternately glancing back and forth and then at nothing in general. ** Think I have a little sniffle...some flower my nose doesn't agree to... ** He scowls, shaking his head. Strongbow rolls his shoulders. ** Don't know. ** His sending is less clear than it should be, less determined. Rillwhisper glances up with a look of visible relief as Silversong drops out of the trees, and leads Strongbow to the log. "Here, archer, sit... " Silversong frowns, hurrying over to the log as well. "What's wrong?" Strongbow goes to the log but resists sitting. ** Silversong, ** he greets, solemn. Rillwhisper flicks a green glance to Silversong as she puts a hand on each of Strongbow's shoulders, and tells him sternly, "Strongbow, please. Sit down. Before you fall down." You locksend ** Look at him! This must be why I haven't seen him for the past eight of days... ** to Silversong. Strongbow's eyes narrow, his shoulders rising. ** Fall down? ** His tmone is incredulous. Even with a sniffle and an interrupted hunt on his mind, he's most certainly not about to fall down. Perhaps. His skin flushes red; he closes his eyes, slowly sitting. ** It's hot. Worth a rest. ** He crosses his arms and opens his eyes again. Silversong sits down beside Strongbow. "Not that hot," she murmurs quietly, lifting her hand to the archer's forehead, and quickly pulling it away. "No, not that hot." Rillwhisper's look softens slightly, and she quickly moves to the fountain on the edge of the clearing. Searching round it, she locates after a moment or two a little wooden bowl that one of the cubs must have left out here; she fills this with water, then comes back. Rillwhisper then crouches beside the archer, and says earnestly, "I want Silversong to look you over. Will you let her?" She offers the bowl of water. Strongbow's brows lower over his dark eyes, which lose their glaze as the flush leaves his skin, followed only by a damp pallor. He uncrosses his arms and puts his palms impatiently on his knees. After a moment he snatches the bowl and shakes his head. ** I'm hunt-tired; it's been days. That's all. ** He nods, though, convinced by his own words, and sips the water. Silversong frowns. "I think otherwise, Archer... that burning is not normal for being tired from the hunt." Rillwhisper lets him drink, but keeps a hand on his shoulder. Eyes glimmering anxiously, she sends softly, ** Please, Strongbow. Let her look at you. ** Strongbow rolls his shoulders. ** I haven't been sunscorched. ** Strongbow makes a coughing noise in his throat, wincing with the motion, but refuses to let it rise to a full cough. Silversong folds her hands in her lap, looking at Strongbow concernedly. Strongbow shrugs at Silversong, then looks back at Rillwhisper. ** Fine, ** he sighs, exasperated. Silversong smiles, and she nods, dipping her fingertips in the bowl briefly before lifting them to the sides of Strongbow's face. "Proud archer..." Strongbow lifts one brow, then closes his eyes, as if in slight pain, and holds still for Silversong's touch. Rillwhisper's mouth tightens, just a hint, and she draws back her own hands as one of them had been en route to the water-bowl before Silversong beat her to it. She quickly composes herself, though, and sits back, watching gravely. Sunruff has arrived. Silversong's fingers begin to glitter in the dim evening light, closing her eyes. "Burning up, archer... how long have you felt this way?" Sunruff pads up behind Rillwhisper, takes a single sniff of Strongbow, then sneezes in distaste and backpedals a few paces. Strongbow opens his eyes, frowning, but doesn't answer with more than a brief shrug. Silversong looks up at the sound, and chuckles. "Even Sunruff agrees..." Silversong settles her hands fully down against Strongbow's skin, the glitter brightening, after finding signs of the 'bug', her healing tracing the signs down... on her own 'hunt'. Rillwhisper fidgets slightly, her hands slightly flexing as she seems slightly bemused about what to do with them. She avoids touching Strongbow now, though she doesn't budge a finger-length away. Silversong closes her eyes, her concentration increasing. ** Very long indeed, ** she sends, to noone in particular, answering her unanswered question. Strongbow closes his eyes again, more tightly, brows furrowing, lips tugging into a more distinct frown, as if highly uncomfortable. His skin heats somewhat, cold sweat departing briefly for fever's flush. His fingers tap at his knees, impatient, annoyed? Rillwhisper seems unsurprised - well, by Silversong's send, at any rate. She gazes at Strongbow with a measure of astonishment in her gaze, nevertheless. A troubled frown tugs at her mouth. Why, by the High Ones, didn't he SAY something about this? Amidst the healing, the `bug' unhappily resists finding; in its own stubborn way, though, Strongbow's body doesn't help much either. His mind leaks occasional drops of experience, hunting a trail that won't stay put, scenting branch-horns whose tracks disappear and reappear without warning. The archer twitches, shaking his head a slight bit, becoming a less willing patient by the second. Rillwhisper finally touches Strongbow's nearer shoulder, and sends as gently as she can manage, ** It's alright, Strongbow... ** Silversong seems to growl in her own way, intensifying her efforts. ** Archer, you need ot be still... ** she sends, trying to keep her hands in position, the glitter growing into a solid glow now. Strongbow stills his head, fingers tapping at his knees, then stilling to clench, then tapping again. His mind seems to calm, receding into deepening haze, but it's hard to tell if he really heard the sending to him or not. Rillwhisper sighs softly, keeping her hand where it is, and closing her eyes. She begins to send, trying to soothe him.... You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper touches your mind, her mental 'voice' cool and green and shaded. ** Easy now... Silversong'll make you feel better. ** Silversong's mouth curls up into a slow grin. ** Gotcha... there! ** she sends, triumph tinging her sending, before she begins to withdraw from Strongbow's body, the glimmer starting to fade, before vanishing entirely. Rillwhisper spares Silversong a flash of attention, and looks over at her hopefully. Silversong lowers her hands from Strongbow's face, before quickly using them to steady herself on the log, seeming rather weary after that. You locksend ** Did you get it? Will he be alright? ** to Silversong. Strongbow shivers and shakes his head violently.His eyes flash open, unseeing, or seeing something not-right. He bows his head, trembling. Silversong looks up at Strongbow, frowning at his reaction. ** I thought I got it all... ** Strongbow shudders again and comes to a still, then looks up, blinking uncharacteristically. Rillwhisper looks back at him, her green eyes liquid with concern. Silversong realizes now what's going on, and she smiles. ** Feel better, Archer? ** From the branch above, Trollkiller climbs out of the Old Willow's heart. Strongbow's eyes search the clearing, his gaze travelling up into the branches, along the branches of the old willow and its relatives. After a time he looks at Silversong, slightly oddly. After a moment's hesitance, he nods, quiet. From the branch above, Trollkiller points to the Daystar, and looks down at Dusk, with an explanitive look on his face. Silversong smiles in response. "Good." Rillwhisper allows herself a relieved, gentle smile. "You should rest, Strongbow... " You say "If Silversong's broken that fever, it'll probably take you a bit to get your strength back." Strongbow doesn't smile, something in his eyes vaguely troubled. He shakes his head, as if to clear it, and nods to Rillwhisper. He seems to mark the season, guessing at how long he's been at hunt, kicking a bit at the grasses and brush-leaves at his feet. ** Can't have been worse than your sickness this winter. ** From the branch above, Trollkiller looks down. ** Hm? ** From the branch above, Dusk sends ** Wuzzat fever? ** Rillwhisper looks up, smiles wearily at her younger mate and his cub, and nods to them. "Strongbow's sick - or at least, was," she calls up. From the branch above, Trollkiller sends, ** Ah. Same thing you had? ** From the branch above, Dusk scrambles out of Trollkiller's arms and onto the branch. ** Wuzzat fever! ** Rillwhisper adds, looking back at Strongbow, and quirking a golden eyebrow, "_I_ didn't go trying to hunt when I had that heat in me." Her eyes glint with worry. "You were very hot." As if trying to assure herself that the fever has indeed broken, she traces her fingers lightly along the archer's forehead, smoothing tangled hair. From the branch above, Trollkiller grabs Dusk and hops down with her off the branch. From the branch above, Trollkiller swings down off the branch to the clearing below. Trollkiller drops down from the branch above. Trollkiller has arrived. Rillwhisper goes on levelly, glancing at Dusk, "Fever, cub, is when your body gets sick and very, very hot." Dusk has arrived. Trollkiller puts down Dusk. Silversong grins over at the cub. Dusk squirms out of Trollkiller's arms and run-hops over to Rillwhisper. ** Hot lots! ** Strongbow gets to his feet, forcedly smooth, and wordlessly questions Rillwhisper, one eyebrow quirked. Trollkiller looks up at Strongbow. Trollkiller locksends ** Not _completely_ well yet, I see... ** to Strongbow. Strongbow's eyes narrow slightly at Trollkiller, but he shakes it off with a shrug. ** Tired. Long hunt. ** Rillwhisper rises along with Strongbow, returning his gaze evenly. She smiles at Dusk, though. "Strongbow doesn't have fur like you, though, cub. Neither do I." Trollkiller looks over at Strongbow, and half-grins. You locksend to Trollkiller, Rillwhisper touches your mind, a mental handclasp, though most of her attention is occupied with worry about the archer. There's frustration and a measure of astonishment roiling in her thoughts. ** He went for _days_ like this without telling us... ** Trollkiller locksends ** I've heard about you. Never will admit when you're ill. Tsk. ** to Strongbow. Dusk thinks about that. ** Not fever. ** Strongbow crosses his arms and widens his stance, scowling evenly at nothing in general. Rillwhisper then glances back to Strongbow, and moves as if to touch his hair again, then she sighs and pulls back. Strongbow locksends ** Precious never that I _am_ ill. I forget what it's like. ** to Trollkiller. Silversong frowns quietly. "Is something wrong, Archer?" Trollkiller giggles, at what you guess might be a send. Rillwhisper agrees with Dusk, "Not fever. You can get hot without having a fever. A fever means you're sick. Like I was last Whitecold." Strongbow rolls his shoulders, and scowls ever so slightly more directly in Trollkiller's direction. Dusk Oooooooooooooooooohhhhs, a look of Oh-I-Get-It-Now on her face. Strongbow shakes his head. ** Just fine, Silversong. Thanks. ** This last is quiet, almost stifled. Trollkiller locksends to Strongbow, Trollkiller has a _very friendly_ glint in his eye as he sends, ** Oh, calm down, pretty one; there's nothing wrong with going to a healer, when you need it. ** Silversong nods in reply, standing up and moving over to sit down again in her usual spot beneath the Willow, against the trunk. Rillwhisper nods solemnly to the cub, not looking at Strongbow now. Strongbow shifts his weight slightly and looks about for his bow, cheeks reddening ever so slightly, scowl fading for mere striving ferocity. Silversong watches Strongbow, concern on her face, and seeming doubtful of his previous 'I'm fine'. Trollkiller grins. Trollkiller locksends ** He's well enough to blush when I call him 'pretty one...' I'd say he is alright... ** to Silversong. Strongbow growls softly in his throat. ** Since everyone's so concerned about my pride, I think I'll go rest. ** He looks at Trollkiller, blush deepening a little, then at Rillwhisper, collecting himself. Rillwhisper tells Dusk, her tone ostensibly quiet though there's a slight edge under her words, "You can tell someone is sick, cub, if their scent doesn't seem right, or if their skin is a lot hotter than it's supposed to be. If you see one of us sick, you should make sure Silversong or Twilight comes to look at us, alright?" Trollkiller locksends ** Want company? (He realizes, though, that he really shouldn't, with Dusk in tow.) ** to Strongbow. Dusk nods solumnly. ** Silversong. Or Twilight. ** Silversong grins. Rillwhisper smiles faintly at Dusk, and nods her approval. Still not looking at Strongbow, she doesn't seem to note that his attention has turned to her. Trollkiller senses in a locksend, Strongbow send-growls goodnaturedly, taking this more easily than the insults to his pride, and adds a fairly indifferent, wordless turning down of the offer. Rillwhisper, as Strongbow sends, says without looking around, "You can sleep in the den up in the Starwillow, archer. That should be quiet. Elves won't be crawling in and out of there." Strongbow nods, quiet, giving one last glance around for his bow and finally shrugging; it won't walk off. He pads off toward the starwillow, moving a little more slowly than he'd like. Strongbow slips into the nearby copse of saplings. Strongbow has left. Dusk blinks suddenly at a butterfly flies into her face and then away. ** Hey! ** She jumps after it, missing. You sense in a locksend, Strongbow offers wordless thanks, the slightest bit of odd confused concern touching his send's tone. Trollkiller sighs. ** He's lovely; I just wish he'd... _stand down_, occasionally. ** Silversong watches after Strongbow. "Something's wrong," she mentions to herself. Rillwhisper, once the archer is out of sight, presses her eyes closed, and looks down. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper doesn't answer you, immediately. When she finally does, her send is reserved, and all she allows herself to send back is, ** Just... rest. Please. ** Trollkiller looks around at Silversong and Rillwhisper. ** What? ** Rillwhisper mutters, "Why didn't he _say_ something....?" Trollkiller sends openly ** Did you ask, though? ** Dusk claps her hands, suddenly; looking over, you see that she's missed the butterfly again; it's flying well above her. Rillwhisper sighs, and shakes her head. "No. I found him wandering around the itchgrass circle, tracking deer that weren't there. Took one sniff of him and knew he had to be healed, so I brought him to Silversong." Trollkiller sends openly ** Ah. ** Trollkiller thinks. Silversong sends openly ** He seemed... distinctly angry at something, when he went to rest, Trollkiller. I don't know at what, though. Maybe I'm just taking that expression the wrong way though... I hardly know him. ** Trollkiller sends openly ** Y'know... ** Trollkiller sends openly ** ...I bet he's embarrassed that he didn't notice he was sick until he was _too_ sick _to_ notice... ** Trollkiller looks slyly off at the tree. Dusk comes up behind him and goes CLAP!, missing the butterfly, but almost catching an eartip. Trollkiller jumps! Trollkiller whirls at Dusk. ** Uh! ** Silversong looks over at the cub, giggling. Dusk shrieks happily! Trollkiller sends openly ** Don't _do_ that...! ** Rillwhisper nods heavily, her mouth drawn in a tight line. "It's his cursed foolish pride... " She trails off as the other two adults are distracted by the cub, and smiles weakly. Dusk sends ** Butterfly! ** Rillwhisper finally adds quietly, "Though... " Rillwhisper looks from Silversong to Trollkiller. "Doesn't it strike either of you as odd that he's been here a full turn of the seasons?" Silversong nods. ** It does... ** You say "I tried to ask him about that, when _I_ was sick. Had to drag any talk of Lostholt - _and_ Moonshade - out of him." Rillwhisper's eyes darken. Trollkiller thinks. ** Huh. That long? ** You say "That long. Ever since we brought Talek and Brightfire out of the Preserver valley." Dusk continues chasing after the butterfly, which seems to be looking for a safe place to rest for the upcoming night. Trollkiller sends openly ** Huh. That _is_ interesting. ** Rillwhisper sighs fretfully. "I... can't help thinking that whatever's kept him here so long... well, that it's kept him distracted enough that that fever snuck up and clobbered him." Trollkiller hms. ** Never thought about the fevre that way, but... who knows? ** He looks over to Silversong. ** Does that make sense? ** Silversong shakes her head, proving herself just as puzzled. Rillwhisper paces back and forth a little, and finally, clearly troubled and restless, leans against the big willow. Trollkiller sends openly ** So what are you thinking? ** Rillwhisper says softly, tightly, "I am _thinking_ that I'm very worried... and I-I have no idea what to do about it." Trollkiller looks at Rillwhisper. ** Is that all? ** Dusk growls, and leaps into the air at the butterfly, which gives up on this clearing and goes to look for another one. Rillwhisper glances uncertainly towards the Starwillow, adding hesitantly, "Half the time... it seems like we know what each of is thinking, enough that we don't have to talk about it... almost don't know _how_ to talk to him." Rillwhisper sighs, and finishes, "I want to go to him, but I'm afraid if I do, or if I even ask, that'll sting that pride of his." Dusk hurmphs. ** Dumb butterfly. ** Silversong quietly nods, looking thoughtgul. Trollkiller sends openly ** I... did ask him if he wanted companionship... though it was silly of me, with Dusk around to keep an eye on. He didn't seem particularly hostile to the idea, though he turned it down. ** Rillwhisper considers, and at last straightens, ducking briefly into the tree. When she reemerges, she has a light fur draped over one arm. She squares her shoulders, and smiles at her young mate and the healer, stating, "Well. Can't hurt to ask, can't it?" Silversong shakes her head, looking in agreement. "Can't hurt to ask..." Rillwhisper, with that, moves off quietly into the trees. Trollkiller nods. ** Can't hurt. ** Trollkiller adds, ** Plus, he's awfully pretty... ** He giggles. Rillwhisper smiles faintly over her shoulder, and then vanishes. [And after Rillwhisper disappears into the trees.... ] Silversong chuckles. Trollkiller watches Rillwhisper head off to see Strongbow. ** Well. We'll see how _that_ goes. ** Silversong nods absently. Trollkiller looks over at Silversong, as Dusk looks around for crickets to harass. ** Not you, too... okay, what are _you_ thinking? ** Silversong glances back. ** Strongbow seemed angry at something... though I doubt it was himself. ** Trollkiller hrmphs. ** Everybody's dancing around something. ** Silversong sends openly ** And I have no idea what... ** Trollkiller sends, ** I just wonder what's going on with him and Moonshade. ** Silversong shakes her head. ** I don't know... ** Dusk finds Crickets! And grabs for one - and gets it! Silversong grins. Dusk blinkblinkblinks, not sure what to _do_ with it. [Dusk proceeds to EAT the cricket, while in the meantime, Rillwhisper goes to find Strongbow... ] You climb up the handholds to the top of the Starwillow. Top of the Starwillow(#5586RL) Green-shadowed and flickeringly lit even in the brightest parts of the day, this hollow among the branches of the Starwillow is surrounded by thick walls of wood that feel as if they have been newly shaped. It's quiet here, and peaceful; there are occasional scents an elf can catch that suggest that this particular willow tree is only sometimes frequented by the elves of the Willowholt. The warm summer night is alive with sounds and scents. Contents: Strongbow Obvious exits: Quiet Den Plane Tree Marsh Old Willow Down Rillwhisper climbs up quietly, glancing around in the shadows. Strongbow lies on a branch, looking into the sky, not seeing it, not hearing, completely inattentive. One arm cradles his head, the other thrown across his chest; his eyes are dark, liquid, thoughtful. Rillwhisper pauses near the trunk, and says gruffly, "There's... furs in this den, here. I brought another." Strongbow blinks, slightly startled, and turns his head to look at you. ** Oh...I. ** He stops, pondering the tone of your voice, and looks back at the sky. ** I was thinking... ** He sits up, then gets to his feet, balance coming back to him, slowed by weariness, and sends wordless tired thanks for the fur. ** Suppose I should stay warm. ** His tone is slightly wry. Rillwhisper permits herself a hint of a smile, and she nods softly. "You should. Here... come on... " Strongbow steps across the branches to go down into the tree, following. You push aside the leather door-hide and step through into the den. Quiet Den(#115RJ) A tiny den just large enough for an elf or two, this nook in the Starwillow is softly shadowed, its floor covered with a few thick, soft furs. A single shaped hollow in the wall contains a tiny candle that smells of pine when burning. The warm summer night is alive with sounds and scents. Obvious exits: Out Strongbow has arrived. Rillwhisper fluffs a couple of the furs already in here, and moves aside to let you come in and stretch out. Strongbow follows into the den, quiet, and sits among the furs, brows strangely furrowed, eyes oddly absent. Rillwhisper considers, and then drapes the fur she'd brought lightly around your shoulders. "Rest well," she tells you softly, and turns slightly, as if intending to go... Strongbow snaps back to reality. ** Wait? ** Rillwhisper looks back at you, her eyes a little sad, solemn. Strongbow bows his head. ** I...it's all right. ** He shrugs a little, then lies down, curling into the furs. Rillwhisper pauses... her heart caught. She doesn't like seeing Strongbow look vulnerable, but... Rillwhisper swallows a little, and sends, not trusting her voice, ** I'll... stay, if you like. ** She smiles, strangely timidly. ** I could play you a sleep-song on my flute. ** Strongbow blinks, and, after a long hesitance, nods a little. ** Yes. ** His eyes are liquid, calm. Something else to think on for the moment... ** Yes, ** he repeats, very quiet this time. Rillwhisper inclines her head, drawing nearer, and settling down to sit beside you. She draws her flute from her belt, and tries to hold in her relief that this, at least, will give her something to do with her hands. Rillwhisper blows a soft note through the reed flute, warming it up. And at last, begins to play, the first thing that comes into her head: simple, slow notes, mellow and quiet. Strongbow lifts a fur absently over his shoulder, pillowing his head on his arm, slightly raised, watching, silent but for breathing, still slightly rough in his throat, but clearing. Rillwhisper plays for a little while, occasionally glancing at you, judging whether or not you've drowsed off yet. Strongbow closes his eyes after a time, breathing easy; whether he's asleep is hard to tell, but he seems at least unwilling to be awake. Rillwhisper lowers her flute at last, and glances at the door-hide, considering whether she should go... Strongbow makes no motion at the stop of the music, breathing softly; his face expresses certain relief and little else. Rillwhisper pauses, then is unable to keep herself from reaching to smooth your hair back from your face. Strongbow's expression perhaps relaxes, or perhaps makes no change; his nose twitches the slightest bit, aware of the motion, and no more. Rillwhisper's gaze softens, as she finds letting herself relax a little safer, if you're drowsing off. She brings her other hand forward, and gently unties your headband. Strongbow's hair falls forward and back, slightly straggly with the time spent hunting in cold sweat. Rillwhisper smiles slightly to herself, remembering Trollkiller's parting comment as she left the clearing: yes, he's very pretty. She allows herself the luxury of running her fingers through the dark red stuff, to work out a tangle or two, then starts to pull away... Strongbow makes a small rrring noise in his throat, as much a contented sigh as a dreaming growl, and shifts a little before stilling once more, locks of freed hair tipping back off his forehead. You locksend to Strongbow, Rillwhisper whispers in your head, ** Sleep well... ** Rillwhisper finds herself vacillating: leave him to sleep peacefully, or stay? Either way, _she_ will be restless. She remains poised an instant, her hands just a bit away from unbound auburn hair. Strongbow sleeps on, blissfully unaware of the chieftess' torn state. :) Rillwhisper finally reaches down to pull your boots off your feet; she grins just a bit, faugh, he'll need his leathers washed, she thinks. Strongbow makes no move to prevent his boots being removed, his nose telling him there's no danger. Rillwhisper then tucks the fur around you a little better, and without another word, slips out - returning only long enough, some many minutes later, to leave a clean tunic that smells of Woodhawk lying where you can find it, as well as your headband and boots, smelling somewhat fresher. [And with that, Rillwhisper quietly slips off to brood. End log.]