Log Date: February 1995 Log Intro: Winnowill and a party of her Chosen have come to visit Willowholt, apparently on a mission to find those of Glider blood and of magical gifts, and to invite them back to the Mountain to strengthen the Glider tribe. ---------- Clearing by the Old Willow(#123RHJ) 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: Dawn Calmwind(#7032Jpq) Ashes Hollow log Squirrel Obvious exits: Branch Old Willow Hillside Path Starwillow Copse Marsh Pond Winnowill has arrived. Swiftrunner comes down out of the trees on the hillside. Swiftrunner has arrived. Woodhawk pads down off the hill, his big grizzled wolf beside him. Winnowill's mouth is half open, thought close to becoming words, her thoughts disrupted, her mouth closes, all as she raises her head and paints a gleaming smile over her lips Pwyll comes down out of the trees on the hillside. Pwyll has arrived. Woodhawk's lean hand is on his wolf's ruff, and he pauses on the edge of the clearing, as he sees Winnowill present. He regards her consideringly, and then just nods, though he smiles to Dawn and her cub. Pwyll runs in, in a panic. Winnowill nods cordially to Dawn, Woodhawk (eyes zero in on Woodhawk's) and Pwyll Woodhawk turns to Pwyll, though, and lifts his eyebrows at the cub. "Lad?" Winnowill regards Pwyll with mild, removed interest From the branch above, Silversong climbs out of the Old Willow's heart. Pwyll runs up to Dawn, and wraps his arms around her leg, providing she's in reach. The sense about him is of a cub who woke up without his mother and got scared. Nothing else more traumatic, at present. Swiftrunner(#4777Qae) This large, well-built wolf male moves with the slow consideration of a wolf past his prime. His fur, too, shows signs of his aging; the rich brown pelt is streaked with silver and grey around his feet and muzzle, and his powerful muscles have a gaunt look about them. But he is not without his brief spurts of playfulness; this is a wolf who hasn't forgotten what it's like to be a cub. Winnowill smiles softly, looking to Silversong, then back to Woodhawk. You sense in a locksend, Winnowill's sending envelopes carefully, seductively, offering warmth and comfort within its bounds, emphasizing the chaos without, ** You will have to tell me more of your magic ** From the branch above, Silversong swings down off the branch to the clearing below. Silversong drops down from the branch above. Silversong has arrived. Silversong nods back to Winnowill. Swiftrunner gives a lupine yawn, then shakes himself, and settles down stiffly in a shaded spot of the clearing. Seeing that the cub has sought comfort with his mother, Woodhawk crouches next to his aging wolf, and caresses the greyed muzzle affectionately before regarding Winnowill curiously. He asks mildly, "What would you like to know?" Woodhawk gives a bit of a blink for a moment, looking faintly taken aback for that instant. Silversong steps over, to sit down beside her Recognized, on the opposite side from his wolf. Winnowill locksends ** It burns in you, not like the fire of its essence, but like wolf blood burns. Does it try to control you? ** Winnowill remains standing, stoic in her graces Dawn is in reach, and places her hand protectively on Pwylls head. Pwyll peeps over and up at Winnowill from Dawn's leg. Woodhawk remarks to Silversong, glancing down at Swiftrunner again, "He's getting older, this one." He scritches the wolf, and then glances back to Winnowill. Still speaking aloud, he answers gravely, "It used to. It hasn't, for some time." Winnowill locksends ** And it hasn't since you gained this new strength I see in you? ** You locksend to Winnowill, Woodhawk seems a little disoriented, for an instant, taken aback by the strength of your send. Perhaps this is why he's speaking aloud.... You sense in a locksend, Silversong's thoughts reflect her curiosity, as she glances between her mother and you. You sense in a locksend, Winnowill's sending once more offers comfort, rest from the chaos (a chaos she very well may be causing), offering a euphoric, addictive escape, ** Your magic is extraordinary. Its uses are boundless. ** Sorrow emerges from the trees by the nearby pond. Sorrow has arrived. Sorrow waddles in slowly into view. You locksend ** Silver, she's... ** to Silversong. Winnowill smiles, almost beaming, to Dawn. Woodhawk blinkblinks at Winnowill, and frowns vaguely. He scrubs the back of his hand across his eyes, as he says, his voice gone a little huskier than usual, "Can't... use it for everything. Fire can't... make clothes." Sorrow steps over to sit by Silversong. Winnowill locksends ** It can be useful though, to dye clothes with earth, like pottery is dyed in the Sun Village **. Silversong looks at Woodhawk, concerned, and glances to Winnowill. You locksend, to Silversong, Winnowill: Woodhawk, Winnowill should be able to sense clearly, sends a faint flash of something like alarm to Silversong. The firestarter mentally backs off from his Recognized's mother, with an effort. Dawn strokes Pwylls hair gently, eyes locked on Winnowill's. You sense in a locksend, Winnowill's sending remains close to your mind; it isn't cold inside, a blanket awaits to cover you. It is protection, it is life itself ((like a drug can make it out to be )) ** There is nothing to fear, Woodhawk. ** Woodhawk settles down with a thump on the earth, and his wolf-friend whurfs at him. The creature's attention makes the firestarter grin lopsidedly, and he wraps an arm around Swiftrunner as he tells Winnowill, "Rill's... our tanner. I use my magic to keep us warm, when I need to. 'Suseful." Woodhawk adds, nodding at Dawn, "Dawn tans, too... I don't need to." Silversong frowns. Pwyll squints. Sorrow listens quietly. Winnowill locksends ** Yes, she does. But you can if you wanted. You have so much more potential than you realize. ** Starlight through the willow fronds dapples the clearing in green and silver. Dawn says distractedly. "Tan. Yes." Winnowill locksends ** Something in her send beckons you closer, to return in send, seductive and slick like the black slickness of oil on fire. It burns, but is not hot, it makes it so easy to come closer... ** Pwyll looks up at Dawn, and then peers back at Winnowill, and he scowls a little. Woodhawk regards Winnowill, brown eyes slightly narrowed. He then abruptly gives a low, rough chuckle, and says sidelong to Silversong, grinning, "Guess it is a healer thing, you all can get an elf drunk... " Pwyll blinks. And shakes his head. Silversong frowns again, her arms going protectively around Woodhawk's shoulders. Winnowill smiles, a short, dry laugh emerging through sparsely parted lips. Woodhawk says dryly to Winnowill, "Wouldn't be the first time... but Silversong and Twilight both wanted to join with me. I don't think I'd be your type, though." Winnowill locksends ** You can see how even your Recognized feels your magic within you as you get close. She is protective of your power, look how angry she is that I have seen it. Dispel that anger, use the fire in your blood in send and dispel her anger, so much (good) you can do, Woodhawk, if you only try. << Her sending oscillates between waves of bliss, crests of pure pleasure, troughs of clear understanding. Her sending is close enough now that her magic can be easily felt without application, there is magic in her mind, magic you have tasted before >> ** Dawn looks down at Pwyll, alarmed. Dawn kneels, hugging Pwyll to herself. She looks a bit awkward at kneeling, these days. Silversong's expression softens slightly. Pwyll hugs back tight. Kalthe floats down, landing by his lord in a low kneeling position. Winnowill nods to Kalthe, saying quietly, almost under her breath, "Rise faithful Kalthe" Kalthe rises and takes a place next to Winnowill, his hands folded behind his back. Pwyll turns his head, and peers at Winnowill again, although he almost smiles when he sees Kalthe. Woodhawk blinkblinks, and his eyes glaze over a little; he shakes his head rapidly, and then finds that his gaze has turned of its own volition to Silversong. Dawn strokes Pwylls back, and stares back at Kalthe. Kalthe nods to the others, ** Greetings and good eve ** You locksend, to Silversong, Winnowill: Woodhawk's mind flashes briefly in Silversong's direction, before he puts forth an effort to pull it back. Silversong looks back to Woodhawk, concern on her face. Woodhawk looks up at Kalthe, and for a brief instant, looks relieved at the distraction. "Hello," he manages after a beat, his voice sounding rough. Dawn checks the position of the others in her tribe, and makes herself more comfortable, sitting on the log with Pwyll still held close. You sense in a locksend, Winnowill's sending remains constant. It is not necessarily strong or invasive, it attracts and draws, making submission the ultimate bliss, a necessary reality to avoid the pain and chaos of the world you have lived in. ** She is so afraid, Woodhawk, dispel her fear, use your power and make her happy again. ** Sorrow waves slightly at Kalthe. Silversong pulls Woodhawk almost unconsciously closer to herself, her eyes still fixed on Winnowill. Though her expression shifts further, from concern... to more introspective. You sense in a locksend to Winnowill, Woodhawk: Silversong finds herself following after advice given by her mother, her thoughts reaching out as she holds Woodhawk. Winnowill locksends ** See how her need is projected to you. The time is , use your magic and remove the in her mind (( the fear most likely of her own mother than anything else )) ** Kalthe looks to Dawn, smiling, ** You must be Young Pwyll's mother... It is a pleasure to meet you ** Pwyll squirms a little. Woodhawk blinks, and looks puzzledly at Silversong. Dawn sends openly ** Yes.. I am. ** Dawn looks a bit uncertainly at Kalthe. Silversong holds Woodhawk very tightly in her arms. Kalthe sends openly ** He is a most delightful child... *chuckle* we talked a little yesterday... ** Swiftrunner squirms under Silversong and Woodhawk. Whurf? Dawn looks rather proud. ** Yes. He is. ** You locksend, to Silversong, Winnowill: Woodhawk sends to Silversong, as tightly as he can, mistrusting this 'notion' of her being afraid that has squirmed its way into his head. But after over two eights of turns of the seasons of concern over her welfare, he can't help but look to see if she's alright. You sense in a locksend, Winnowill's sending perseveres, without the sending, there is reality, painful understanding of the world, of the shortness of life, that the mate in your arms will one day fertilize the soil of the ground you walk on, inside the send, the reality is clear, but it does not matter, it is warm, it is ** yes, closer to her ** You sense in a locksend to Winnowill, Woodhawk: Silversong returns with the clear sense that she is just fine... and that most of her concern is about -him-, not herself. Silversong looks, surprised, at the wolf. You locksend, to Silversong, Winnowill: Woodhawk flashes a response back to Winnowill; his thoughts are suddenly heated, and there's a sense of a wolf with fire-colored fur behind his eyes.... but his sending is clear. He is content and happy with his world. Winnowill locksends ** She hides her fear from you, she does not want you to worry, but it is there, eating her away... ** Kalthe looks to Dawn, with a slight smile on his lips, ** Perhaps if you will allow me to I will give him a ride on my bondbird, that is if he wishes ... ** Winnowill locksends ** You are part wolf, smell the fear in her ** Dawn nuzzles Pwyll briefly, keeping part of her attention of the visitors at all times. Dawn sends openly ** I don't think I would like that. ** Woodhawk yanks his gaze down to Swiftrunner's fur, for an instant. Pwyll squirms, a little more, and then he pouts, his demeanor changing. ** But Overdark's nice, momma.. ** You sense in a locksend, Winnowill's sending returns euphoria as you come close to what she asks, leaving only << addiction >> as you turn away. Kalthe nods, ** Of course... I can understand your hesitation... ** From afar, Winnowill puts some things that are conditional in <>'s, so they are left up to Woodhawk :) Kalthe smiles, ** I would not trust a prize so valuable to a stranger either ** Dawn looks uncertainly at Pwyll, then to Silversong and Woodhawk. ** I..don't know. ** You locksend, to Silversong, Winnowill: ** ** Woodhawk looks up blankly. "What? Kalthe sends openly ** If you wish, since you do not have a reason, other than the fact that we are both elves, to trust my word... you may come or send someone with us ** Woodhawk's hand tightens in Swiftrunner's fur, unconsciously. Pwyll smiles a little. ** Please, momma? ** You sense in a locksend, Winnowill's sending accepts the wolf, embraces the wolf, tries to satisfy and appease the wolf within you Dawn licks her lips. ** Zalen. Only if Zalen goes. ** Kalthe nods, ** and who shall ask Zalen to accompany us? ** Pwyll pouts. ** Aww... ** Dawn sends openly ** He is not here, right now. Out. Elsewhere. If he returns before you leave, you can ask him. ** You sense in a locksend to Winnowill, Woodhawk: Silversong's thoughts do reflect fear, indeed... fear that something she doesn't understand is being done to her Recognized, to her friend. Kalthe nods, ** of course ** From the branch above, Rillwhisper climbs out of the Old Willow's heart. Pwyll pouts more. Dawn frowns at Pwyll. From the branch above, Rillwhisper crouches on the branch, green eyes narrowed as she looks down. Kalthe smiles down to Pwyll, ** no, young one... your mother does have a right to worry for you... in truth I do not blame her one bit for her protection of you ** Woodhawk's brown eyes snap back to Winnowill, and with an obvious effort, he gives a ghost of a grin. Sounding breathless, he tells her, "Easier.... ways of getting me... drunk." Dawn gives Woodhawk a surprised look. Pwyll sends openly ** But Kalthe can fly and he's a goodguy! He can bring me back! ** From the branch above, Rillwhisper swings down off the branch to the clearing below. Rillwhisper drops down from the branch above. Rillwhisper has arrived. Pwyll looks at Kalthe. ** You would, huh? ** Kalthe sends openly ** Of course... but you must obey your mother ** You sense Silversong leans close, brushing her lips across your ear. "What is she doing...?" she whispers as she does, not trusting sending. Rillwhisper, with that, drops down into the clearing, and regards the scene before her levelly. Dryly, she notes to Winnowill, "Getting firestarters drunk is rarely a good idea. They tend to start burning things, you know." Dawn blushes for some reason. "Yes. You should." Dawn clears her throat, and hugs Pwyll. "Your father can take you flying.." Woodhawk looks rather relieved to see his chieftess-mate, and Rillwhisper's presence lends an alertness to his gaze. "Wouldn't want... to burn everybody's clothes off," he agrees. Dawn giggles, quickly muffling it against Pwyll. Silversong gives a slight giggle in response, some of the tenseness in her easing off. Rillwhisper smiles crookedly to her elder mate, but the look doesn't quite reach her eyes, as her expression asks Winnowill quite clearly, 'Just what ARE you trying to do to my mate, anyway?' Woodhawk murmurs to Silversong, the slight slur in his words making him actually sound drunk, "Burning leather stinks, anyway... " Dawn's eyes glitter at Rillwhisper. Silversong squeezes at Woodhawk's shoulder, pulling him closer... Pwyll sighs overdramatically, and he -sulks- Winnowill nods a short smile to Rillwhisper, "Hello, Chief Rillwhisper." Rillwhisper inclines her head to Kalthe, seeing him here, and smiles reservedly to Winnowill. Kalthe nods to Rillwhisper, a faint smile resting on his lips. Winnowill locksends ** This is not drunkness, but the pleasure of understanding your magic and all of its potential. < her sending becomes tenacious, attempting to isolate the wolf from the fire and the elf, all three separate entities > see how you must choose between your bloods? < her sending becomes euphoric again, the world glazed in a bath of heavenly light > Such can and does exist outside of the Palace. All of it I provide. ** Woodhawk leans into Silversong's arms, and over his wolf at the same time. Swiftrunner gives a disgruntled snort, and wriggles around till Woodhawk is sandwiched in the middle, instead of him. [Kalthe locksends ** Greetings and good eve, Chief Rillwhisper **] Pwyll sniffs, and pouts even more. Just to make sure everyone sees him pouting. Dawn ruffles Pwylls hair distractedly. Kalthe smiles at the two. Rillwhisper strides over to where Woodhawk and Silversong are sitting, and gives the two a crooked smile. She murmurs to them in a deliberately audible whisper, "Holt's full of mushrooms, you don't need a healer to play dreamberry wine for you." She scritches Woodhawk's thick tangle of dark auburn hair. Dawn smiles at Rillwhispers comment, still rather red-cheeked. Winnowill smiles to Silversong. Silversong looks up at Rill, her expression revealing much without words... concern, and a good deal of fear. Woodhawk eyes Winnowill around Rillwhisper, and tells her as firmly as he can manage, "All of 'em are me. Elf, fire, wolf. Learned that." Winnowill locksends ** Then do not let them fight but live together. Either all or none (and again, the euphoria, the warmth, safety and compassion) ** Winnowill offers Rillwhisper a wane smile, "He (Woodhawk) is an interesting pupil." Rillwhisper sits back on her haunches, and says pleasantly, "What are you trying to teach him, though?" Winnowill says "Not so much teach, but observe. He has changed and I want to see if my healing had anything to do with it." You sense in a locksend to Silversong, Winnowill, Rillwhisper: Woodhawk, dazed enough now to not quite have enough control to always answer aloud - though now, the cool greenness of Rillwhisper's mind is pointedly near, too - informs Winnowill serenely, ** Am all. Inside. It's good. ** Pwyll blinks, and nodnodnodnodnodnods at Dawn. Rillwhisper looks up at Winnowill's tall height, the difference exaggerated with the Wolfrider chieftess crouched. But her green gaze is direct. She says with a look of pride, "The Palace did it. It was here for an eight of days, after Tash was killed." Winnowill locksends ** Yes, good. All one, all here, (her sends amplify the joy and ecstacy of unity in you). But there (her sending paints a picture of hidden fear, Silversong's face is a mask where the chaos of anger and treachery thrive), there is still pain in your mate, a pain that must be vanquished. ** Woodhawk nods slowly, as Rillwhisper speaks, though his gaze wanders puzzledly to Silversong again. [Kalthe locksends to Rillwhisper ** I hate to interrupt your conversation, but I wish to make a request of you... Would you ride with me and Pwyll on my bondbird... he wishes to ride, and his mother, rightfully so, does not feel the trust necessary to allow him to do so alone with me. **] Winnowill looks down at Rillwhisper, arms folded carefully, elegantly across her stomache, "Something did it, yes, but the palace alone? I sometimes wonder if something else (her eyes flicker to Silversong) had anything to do with it." Silversong shakes her head in response to that wonderment. ** I was at the Mountain, mother, while the Palace was here. ** Woodhawk suddenly grins, a little muzzily. "Palace.... finished it," he mumbles. Silversong glances at Woodhawk, looking at him. Rillwhisper regards her lifemate, old memories briefly softening her gaze. Brown eyes meet green, in the communion of remembrance. Winnowill meets both Rillwhisper's and Woodhawsk mutually softened gazes with a short smile. Woodhawk finally straightens a little. He pulls in a breath, and, his voice seeming to gain some steadiness, he tells Winnowill simply, "Found the rest of my soulname, in the Palace." Winnowill locksends ** And now, in Silversong, this must be finished. ** Rillwhisper nods to that, her gaze reflecting quiet pride. Kalthe looks to Rillwhisper, calmly and questioningly. Silversong gently stands, offering her hand to Woodhawk to help him up. ** We need to go talk, and think... ** You locksend, to Silversong, Winnowill, Rillwhisper: Woodhawk's mate's presence has given him a new strength to his mental shields... and Woodhawk, dazed, mentally retreats. Pwyll sends openly ** CanIcanIcanI? ** Pwyll fairly bounces. Winnowill locksends ** The union cannot exist in this pain (in your lucidity, she allows her send to begin to withdraw, the absence of the euphoria inspiring the rise of addiction) ** Rillwhisper glances now to Pwyll and Kalthe. "How far?" she inquires of the Glider? Winnowill smiles and says in a slightly childish, suggestive voice, "Can he, mother?" Kalthe shakes his head slightly, ** not far.. most definately not out of sending range... ** Woodhawk blinkblinks, and as Silversong leads him off, he frowns vaguely to himself, not aware of the yearning look that flickers across his face for an instant. But then, he and the younger healer have vanished into the trees. Silversong smiles, and slips off with Woodhawk, around the old willow and beyond. ** We'll be back sometime later... * Woodhawk slips down the path around the Old Willow. Woodhawk has left. Silversong slips down the path around the Old Willow. Silversong has left. [Woodhawk and Silversong head to a remote corner of the Holt... ] Woodhawk mumbles foggily, "I... High Ones, she's worse than dreamberries... " You push through the Shadewillow's fronds and into the tree. In the Shadewillow(#234RL) This tiny, vaguely round chamber has walls that feel even and smooth to the touch; to keen elfin senses, they hint at being very recently shaped. The entire little chamber is subtly veiled in half-light flickering in through the curtain of willow fronds, just outside. Evening falls clear and cold over the snow-covered Holt. The first stars of evening appear above. Obvious exits: Joy's Den Out Up Silversong steps in from outside. Silversong has arrived. Silversong mm-hmms... "Aye..." Woodhawk sinks down agaisnt the wood of the tree. Silversong settles down beside you, holding you close to herself... [Log flips back to Rillwhisper's point of view.] Rillwhisper rises, after her mate and Silversong slip off. She considers this request, and gives an arch glance in the direction that Woodhawk has gone, then one to Winnowill. Dawn looks to her chief, gravely. Rillwhisper says to Dawn, "What do you think of this? It's your cub." Pwyll twists around and rests his hands carefully on Dawn's stomach, smiling hopefully at her. ** Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease? ** Dawn sends openly ** He really wants to... ** Dawn smiles softly at her cub, stroking his head, and pinching his cheek gently. ** All right..if Rillwhisper goes with you. ** Pwyll beams! Rillwhisper nods, then. "A short ride, out of sending range. It'll have to be short, I haven't ridden one of these big birds before, either." Sorrow's head lolls to one side as she dozes. Kalthe nods, ** of course ** Kalthe sends openly ** Now one last thing must be decided.... when? ** Pwyll yips and howls excitedly, and hops off of Dawn's lap, running laps around the elves in the clearing! Kalthe smiles, as his eyes follows Pwyll. Rillwhisper grins despite her generally reserved mood, as the cub exults. Kalthe sends openly ** As you are the 'guardian' in this, I shall let you decide, Chief Rillwhisper ** Zalen glides down from above. Zalen has arrived. Kalthe nods to Zalen, ** greetings... Zalen ** Zalen hangs high in the air, eyes wild. ** No. ** Pwyll zooms around the clearing below Zalen, excitedly. Dawn looks relieved as Zalen arrives, and stands from her seat on the log. ** Zalen. ** Rillwhisper, as Zalen arrives, looks up at him. Instantly fathoming the young Glider's mood, she just nods to him, and waits to see what else he has to say. Sorrow wanders off to the Starwillow, looking sleepy. Kalthe looks to Zalen, quietly listening. Pwyll looks up, following Dawn's attention, and he beams even more brightly! Zalen slowly decends to the ground. Pwyll's expression darkens just a touch. Dawn smiles softly at her mate. Pwyll frowns. Zalen glances away from Pwyll and nods gently to Dawn, sparing a little smile. Pwyll blinks. And shakes his head. Dawn pats Pwylls head gently. ** What your father says, goes. ** Kalthe watches Zalen and the others. Zalen looks from Pwyll cautiously to Kalthe. Zalen looks with stern concern to Pwyll. Pwyll beams again! ** I promise! ** Zalen's intense look subsides with a slim smile, eyes as warm heather. Dawn smiles happily. ** It's all right, then? ** Zalen bends down onto one knee, smiling at Pwyll's excited glee. Dawn rubs at her back, and sits carefully down again. Rillwhisper regards Zalen, mildly curious, awaiting his verdict. Kalthe too awaits Zalen's decision. Pwyll smiles right into Zalen's face. Dawn watches her mate, her expression grave as she thinks. Zalen opens his arms to his son. Pwyll hugs his poppa tightly! Rillwhisper smiles. Zalen hugs his son back closely. Kalthe smiles slightly. Dawn smiles softly, wrapping her arms around herself. Zalen looks up and to Rillwhisper, fussing with the cub's hair. Zalen locksends ** I told him he has to stay with you no matter what happened. I trust he will be in quite capable company. ** You locksend to Zalen, Rillwhisper nods. ** I shall take care of him as if he were my own blood. ** Kalthe nods to Zalen, then turns to Rillwhisper, ** when do you wish to make the 'short' ride? ** Dawn stands up again, looking to the shadewillow. Dawn smiles to Zalen, her eyes warm. ** I think I need my rest. Pwyll, do as your father tells you. ** Rillwhisper says to Kalthe, "I should tell Woodhawk and Trollkiller I will be going. Other than that, I have no objections to 'now'... " Zalen says "That you do." Pwyll nodnods. ** 'kay. ** Rillwhisper smiles, and turns. "I want to check on Woodhawk. But I will come and find you both, soon." With that, she vanishes into the trees. [Rillwhisper goes to find Woodhawk and Silversong in the Shadewillow. There, Woodhawk has already told a very concerned Silversong what Winnowill was doing to his head... and Rillwhisper comes upon them as they speak of this.] Silversong grins. Woodhawk says huskily, "I'm.... alright, Rill... just a little foggyheaded, right now... " Rillwhisper nods gravely, her eyes dark and briefly distant. She asks Silver, "Can you help him...? Or will your mother know?" Silversong moves her hands to the sides of Woodhawk's face in answer, her fingers taking on a slight shimmer. ** I don't care if she knows or not. ** Woodhawk gives a low 'mm' as Silversong's magic touches him. You locksend to Silversong, Woodhawk's mind is shaken, by the surprisingly strong memories of euphoria you sense in him... and, disturbingly, you feel that he ALMOST gave in to her beckoning, that he almost let himself _need_ that addictive sending. He didn't, though... and the effort has left him drained. Silversong looks, indeed, somewhat furious with her mother, as she works. "I don't like it, how you described what she was doing to you, 'hawk..." Silversong pauses for a moment in her efforts, in what she finds there, somewhat shaken herself... but she returns to it, closing her eyes. Sweetleaf steps in from outside. Sweetleaf has arrived. Silversong doesn't look back, her hands touched to the sides of Woodhawk's face. Rillwhisper looks up, and seems briefly surprised... but pleased to see her brother. "Sweetleaf... " Sweetleaf looks concernedly at Woodhawk, then questioningly at Rillwhisper. Sweetleaf says "Is something wrong? I dreamed strange things..." Woodhawk lies against Silversong's shoulder, and the healer has her hands touched lightly to his head; he looks drained, and drawn around his eyes. Rillwhisper says, her tone unusually short, "It seems Winnowill has been trying things behind our back, while she's been here." Sweetleaf goes up to Silversong, and gently touches Woodhawk's face. "That one....yes, I think I remember her." Woodhawk mumbles to Sweetleaf, "It... it felt like she was trying to make me... drunk... " Silversong glances up at the ancient treeshaper, and nods to him. "She was here before... and healed Woodhawk, but now..." she closes her eyes, shaking her head slightly. "She's changed," she observes simply, before returning fully to her work, cleaning out the remainders of her mother's efforts. Sweetleaf smiles his strange smile, and says a bit shortly, "No natural fruit would do that to you." Rillwhisper smiles wanly to her brother. "We all know the products of your shaping, brother, and they don't linger in your head making you need more of them." Sweetleaf nods, abstractedly. "Certainly not, though some natural fruits do have that tendency, if not taken with.... with care, with...." Sweetleaf nods again, sharply. "With its proper companions." Woodhawk lets out a faint, relieved sigh; his eyes seem to go clearer, but he looks very, very tired. Rillwhisper murmurs solemnly, "I should have listened to Strongbow." Sweetleaf strokes Woodhawk's face, very gently, and says to Woodhawk, "I've something to bring you. It's out of season, but it's only a moment until we can make it spring." Sweetleaf looks enquringly at Silversong and Rillwhisper, and says, "Keep him a moment? I'll be back with something that should help... " Woodhawk nods up at Sweetleaf, readily, trusting his old tribesmate. "If you can keep my head clear... " Rillwhisper nods quickly to her brother. "Nobody's leaving him alone until the Gliders are gone." Rillwhisper's tone is her 'chieftess' one, and she delivers this in the tone of making a command. Silversong gently drops her hands away from Woodhawk's face. "I'm not letting Joy go alone." Woodhawk looks alarmedly to his Recognized as Rillwhisper points out, "Do we have any assurance she hasn't been mucking with the lass, either?" Sweetleaf smiles at Woodhawk. "Clear and any color as one chooses, old friend." He turns to Rillwhisper, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps I can also find a color to suit those....Gliders." Sweetleaf has left. Silversong frowns slightly. "I just realized that myself..." Silversong says "We have no assurance." Rillwhisper abruptly snorts after her brother, and giggles tersely for a moment at the idea of the Gliders sampling Sweetleaf's wares. But her gaze goes quickly sharp again, as she says to Silversong, "You've been in and out of the Mountain before... and I know you can do it... but did your mother used to do... this 'need' sending?" Woodhawk grumbles, though his voice doesn't have much energy in it right now, "Don't think anybody should go... " He tries to sit up. Silversong looks up at Rill. And she shakes her head. "No, she didn't. Else she would have for me..." Rillwhisper regards Silversong gravely. "We heard before that Leetah healed her. But if she's doing this, now... " Silversong nods to Woodhawk. "Rill, you can talk with Joy... Joy is a grown elf now, old enough to make her own decisions... but you're still the chieftain of this holt. Rillwhisper scowls. And says broodingly, "Aye, Joy's grown now... but also half-Glider, and she DOES have the right to know where that part of her came from... but curse me if I want Winnowill to make Joy 'need' her like this, too." Rillwhisper touches her hands to both your shoulders. "Using healing to make joining more fun is one thing, but this... this is different." Silversong nods quietly. "Aye, it's different..." Woodhawk looks at his lifemate narrowly. "Rill... you said something about Leetah... you don't think she fooled Leetah somehow, do you?" Silversong sits back against the wall of the tree, musing over this. "Leetah healed mother, that's true... Ember had told me. But High Ones, one would think that healing Winnowill would make her purposes all the more clear to her... not eliminate them." Woodhawk considers... and decides that his body's rather pointed suggestion that he lie down lest his head keep spinning is a good idea. He lies back with his head in Silversong's lap. Sweetleaf steps in from outside. Sweetleaf has arrived. Silversong smiles down at Woodhawk, brushing her hand over her Recognized's hair. Rillwhisper starts to speak, then looks up again as her brother returns. Sweetleaf kneels beside the pair, looking down into Woodhawk's face. Woodhawk murmurs to Silversong heavily, "Little flower, I don't envy you your sire and dam... " He blinks up at Sweetleaf, from where he now lies with his head cradled in Silversong's lap. Silversong smiles in response. "Aye... neither do I." Sweetleaf looks a bit bright-eyed, and considerably more alert than usual. In one hand he holds a perfect, round, red fruit. Rillwhisper's eyes are still dark and brooding, but she grins at what Sweetleaf holds forth. She, too, trusts her brother's shaping. Silversong chuckles at the old treeshaper. "You don't know how many times I've envied you that, Sweetleaf... Being able to talk with the trees, is a far cry from being able to convince them to bear fruit when they don't want to." Woodhawk grins lopsidedly at Sweetleaf. Rillwhisper peers. Apple? Sweetleaf tilts his head at Silversong. "First you learn to listen; then you learn to ask. The trees always want to bear what the shaper needs...." Sweetleaf turns to his sister. "It's called a rosecherry; smells like one, grows like the other.": Sweetleaf gave you rosecherry. Rillwhisper nods gravely, and sniffs at the thing as Sweetleaf places it into her fingers. rosecherry a small, round, red-flushed fruit. Your 'magic feeling' tingles, and you sense that this plant has been shaped. Woodhawk says wearily, "You want me to eat that?" Sweetleaf nods at Woodhawk. "It's only small, but one should be enough. You'll like the taste; it's ripe and sweet." Sweetleaf beckons to his sister -- "Give it to him." Rillwhisper nods... and clasps Woodhawk's hand for a moment, giving him a quiet grin, as she passes the fruit to him. Silversong smiles quietly. "I guess it's a matter of how much the trees like the person asking. They've never wanted to do that for me... too much trouble. But many a lonely night they've given me the comfort of a friendly voice." Woodhawk grins weakly, and mutters teasingly, "I'll trust I don't see pink and purple for an eight of days," as he eats the thing. Woodhawk> The rosecherry is soft on your tongue, tasting warm and a little bit sweet.. Woodhawk takes the rosecherry into his mouth. A moment later, he sighs softly as he swallows it down. Woodhawk sighs again and moves a hand to his belly as the drug begins to take effect. Woodhawk> A deep clear peace settles into your heart, as the rosecherry begins to take effect. Sweetleaf smiles sweetly at Woodhawk. "Of course not; I know they're not your colors." Rillwhisper gives a small, soft laugh. Woodhawk grins, and lies quietly as he waits for the shaped fruit to do what it needs to. Sweetleaf turns to Silversong. "You're a new friend to them, cubling. Give them a chance to know you, and they'll be generous friends." Silversong chuckles softly, and she nods. "All right..." Sweetleaf looks at the young healer consideringly. "When I was your age I was still giving myself a bellyache every hand of days, eating things that weren't grown to be eaten..." You locksend, to Silversong, Sweetleaf: ** Better... ** Rillwhisper giggles. "Talk about seeing pink and purple... " Silversong grins. "I've had my experiences with that, though not since Peace spent some time showing and telling me what sorts of herbs and fruits were best for eating." Silversong giggles softly. "They're just different pink and purples." Woodhawk smiles, a faint smile, just one corner of his mouth curving up. He murmurs, "Trust Sweetleaf to root me again... I feel better. Thank you." Sweetleaf looks distant again. "For me it was my mother, Sparrow. She knew what was good food, and what wasn't; still, I wanted to try everything. And I think it was worth the bellyaches, to learn what I could of their herbal effects...." Sweetleaf comes back to the present at Woodhawk's voice. He murmurs to him, "Of course, old brother; your mind should always be your own." Rillwhisper reaches over to smooth 'Hawk's dark red hair out of his eyes, and while she seems pleased to hear Silversong and Sweetleaf sharing these things, she still seems tense. Rillwhisper asks, "Will this hold long enough for me to get those Gliders out of here?" Sweetleaf sighs. "Hold...it's a healing thing; there should be no damage when it's done its work. But it cannot heal a wound that has yet to be inflicted." Woodhawk lets out a breath. "I just... need to keep her out of my head long enough. So she won't send that... 'need' at me." Sweetleaf looks thoughtful. "The Gliders...." Rillwhisper's dark golden eyebrows go up, and she fixes her brother with a curious green gaze. She grins a little, and says, "Going to offer them some tea?" Silversong mms? She looks up, and grins slightly. Sweetleaf looks at Woodhawk, and says gently, "I can brew you a tea that would make your mind secure from Recognition itself. But I suspect the true need is with the Gliders. Yes, perhaps a tea for them." Woodhawk grins lopsidedly, and reaches up one hand to skitch Silversong. "Don't need any Recognition protection... " Silversong giggles in amusement, and she nuzzles into Woodhawk's hand. Rillwhisper smiles. But says: "Winnowill's a healer, though, brother... " You say "And powerful. Even better than Leetah." Sweetleaf looks faintly surprised, then shakes his head, remembering things. Silversong says "Now, I wouldn't say that... not better. More powerful, maybe. But not better." Sweetleaf considers this. "I wouldn't poison her, you know. But perhaps she *likes* pink and purple." Sweetleaf continues, "Or perhaps she'd just enjoy feeling a bit more.... kindly." Rillwhisper huhs, and nods agreeably to Silversong, before grinning again to Sweetleaf. "Can't say that I'd know. Though from what I've heard, it's been a long time since anybody tried to muck with _her_ head!" Silversong grins. "Not since father," she agrees to Rill. Rillwhisper shakes her head, grinning slightly, and sighs. "You'd better be the one to make the offer, then, Sweetleaf... I'm... angry, right now. She'd pick that up from me, I think." Woodhawk turns his brown gaze to Rillwhisper, and fixes her with a steady, tender regard. ** I'm alright, ** he sends assuringly. Sweetleaf nods, and gives his sister a hug. "It's good to see that; a young wolf-chieftess should have that in her. But I am too old to be angry very often, and indeed it would please me to offer her a tea." Silversong smiles quietly. Rillwhisper gives a weak smile, and hugs her sib, then leans down and nuzzles Woodhawk's hair. "The archer'd blow up at me for this," she mutters, ruefully. Sweetleaf looks meditative. "I could send her into ecstasies that would last till the rosecherry bloomed of its own accord. Or simply and subtly render her a little more generous of heart for an hour... " Silversong looks up. "That last... I had been meaning to talk with her, and I think that would help in many ways... Woodhawk scritches his chieftess-mate, chuckling at Sweetleaf's ponderings, while Rill giggles shortly. Sweetleaf sighs. "It's a simple thing, but it's had its uses many times." Silversong smiles hopefully. "Teach me...?" Sweetleaf mutters, "Though I might still enjoy sending her a pink-and-purple terror or two... " Silversong smiles, and she nods. "I'd like that..." Woodhawk smiles at the exchange, tired enough that he simply lets himself be secure in his tribesmates' presences, but Rill says, "I daresay her guards'd get nervous if she suddenly started thinking she was a flower!" Sweetleaf laughs, "Not if they thought they were honeybees!" Silversong suddenly bursts out laughing. Rillwhisper bursts out into laughter, too. "Huh, that's what I dreamed last time I sampled your 'shrooms...! *giggle* Well, Dawn was the bee, not me... " She giggles again, trying to envision such a thing after seeing the three Glider guards bow and scrape so much to their Lord. Sweetleaf looks amused. "That sounds very sweet. And it would do those guards good to be a bit sweet." Sweetleaf looks thoughtfully at Silversong. "She might take a tea more readily from her daughter's hands than from a stranger." Silversong nods softly. "Aye..." Sweetleaf continues briskly. "Do you know valerian? Mugwort? Ephedra?" Silversong blinks, taken slightly aback by the names. She shakes her head. "No... I've always just known the shapes of herbs, the colors... never the names." Rillwhisper smiles a little, and scoots a bit so that if Silversong needs it so, Woodhawk can scoot over to her. The firestarter stretches, and offers his own compromise by way of curling up as best he can between both the chieftess and the healer. Silversong giggles softly, and she nods to Rill, brushing her fingers through Woodhawk's hair. Sweetleaf begins to lecture. "Ephedra is for seeing pink and purple...." Silversong looks attentively up at Sweetleaf. "What does it look like?" Sweetleaf says "that's the seeds. Dry them first. One will give an unplaceable edge to the vision; two is like dreaming; at six the sight is all from the mind and none from the eyes." Woodhawk leans against Rillwhisper's shoulder, his eyes drifting half-shut. Sweetleaf says "The stems are long, as tall as you are, green with purple veins and segmented like a reed. The leaves are lobed; the fruits are spiny, segmented inside, all seeds." Sweetleaf says "It grows in damp places -- do you know it?" Silversong mms. "I think I have seen it once. Along the edges of the swamp, towards suncomesup." Sweetleaf nods. "It does grow there, but closer too, near the pond." Rillwhisper holds Woodhawk and runs her fingers through his hair. Her stance speaks of 'watchful she-wolf'. Sweetleaf looks thoughtful. "I'd use one seed of that -- no more! -- in a tea for kindness; then she will not doubt her behavior later." Silversong mms, contemplating this. She nods. Sweetleaf adds, "And the fruits cling to the plant all through the WhiteCold. You can gather them fresh any time from leaf-falling to NewGreen." Silversong grins. "Sounds distinctly available..." Rillwhisper puts in dryly, "The Holt's full of things like that, Sweetleaf shaped it after all." Rillwhisper winks. Sweetleaf nods. "Sevenleaf might be good, and I have it in store, but it's best to use the fresh young flowers, and you will not find those before summer solstice. You can gather the sap from whitebark instead; it'll be running already, and has a similar effect." Sweetleaf tilts his head at Silversong, and asks, "Can you bring the treeblood out to your hand?" Silversong looks down at her hand. "Out to my hand?" Silversong looks very confused, apparently thinking 'treeblood' like one might think 'wolfblood'. Rillwhisper's eyebrows go up, but then, she's used to hearing her brother say strange things like this. Sweetleaf turns to place his hand on the Shadewillow's trunk. He touches it gently, and the tree shimmers slightly green to your magic-sense. When he takes his hand away, it is covered with clear and sticky sap. Woodhawk looks like he's mostly asleep; Sweetleaf's magic and Silversong's have left his mind and heart clear, but his body is still weary from the effort of keeping Winnowill out of his thoughts. He smiles vaguely as Sweetleaf's brief shaping ripples on the edge of his awarness, though. Rillwhisper smiles over Woodhawk's head, and holds him protectively close to her. Sweetleaf says "Willow is good for headaches, and good for magic. Whitebark for kindness. Oak for magic too. Spruce for the belly, for childbirth." Silversong looks very impressed. Sweetleaf adds, "If you gather oaksap and burn it, it is blunting to magic; you might offer her that, but it tastes bad." Silversong mms, and nods slightly. Sweetleaf continues. "So: ephedra for dreaminess, whitebark for kindness. Valerian for calm; I'll grow that for you. Peppermint you already have; that and honey for the taste?" Woodhawk mumbles, "Burned things smell, too. Silversong reaches over, setting her hand on the wall of the trunk, and appears to concentrate, but nothing at all happens. She frowns slightly, but then grins, returning to Sweetleaf's lesson. "Aye, I think that would do well." Rillwhisper glances out of the willow tree, musingly. Sweetleaf says encouragingly, "Try it with the whitebark first; it's running already by its nature, and I've just disturbed this willow enough. If it won't come to your hand, though, it may to your knife." Silversong smiles, and she nods. "Okay!" Sweetleaf adds hastily -- "Whitebark, that is. Don't cut into the livewood, only the bark. For willow, wait another moon!" Silversong giggles, and nods. "Okay." Sweetleaf nods approvingly. "And close the wound with moss, if you do cut it. Gather those herbs; steep the ephedra seed for a day; then brew the rest together with heat for half a morning. Then it should be fit for your mother to drink." Silversong nods. "I'll start tonight." Sweetleaf smiles at her approvingly. "When you've gathered the rest, I'll grow you the valerian, and perhaps you can help it to flower." Rillwhisper says tersely, "I'm going to have to tell her to not muck with us." Sweetleaf nods at his sister. "Of course you must. Silversong and I," he nods to her, "will be helping her to listen." Silversong giggles, almost giddily. Rillwhisper pulls in a breath, and smiles halfheartedly. "I'll wait, then. It'll do me best to not be wanting to slash her throat when I do this." Woodhawk murmurs, "I could warm her toes for you... " which makes Rill laugh softly. Silversong grins at Woodhawk. "You can help me warm the tea." Woodhawk answers sleepily, "When I can think enough to make flame." Sweetleaf nods. "No heat for the seed alone; steep that cold, in snowmelt. But if you brew the rest with our tribesmate's help, you can have it ready more quickly." Sweetleaf turns to Woodhawk. "You should sleep, autumn-hair. Sleep safely." Silversong grins. "Aye... you should sleep..." she agrees, brushing her fingers over Woodhawk's forehead, drawing his hair away from his face. Woodhawk mm-hmms, faintly. Already comfortably nestled against Rillwhisper, he doesn't appear to require much persuasion. Rillwhisper says softly, but determinedly, "He will sleep safely." Sweetleaf regards his sister with love and trust. "That he will." Silversong smiles, and she nods. "And I'll go to gather for the tea..." Sweetleaf rises, slowly but gracefully. "I'd better go find some valerian, too. Come to my den when you're ready for it. But don't wait to start steeping the seed; set it in water as soon as you find it." Rillwhisper smiles solemnly to her brother, and cradles her mate against her briefly, before telling him, "C'mon, fire-hawk. Let's get you to our den." You locksend ** Thank you. ** to Sweetleaf. Silversong nods softly. "I will, Sweetleaf. And thank you." Woodhawk sways a little as he helps Rillwhisper pull him up to his feet, and the two of them touch you both briefly, in thanks, as the chieftess helps him out. Sweetleaf locksends ** Happy to, little sister. And happy to do for *him*. ** You locksend ** ** to Sweetleaf. Sweetleaf locksends ** ** ---------- And with that, Woodhawk is escorted by Rillwhisper to their den.