Log Date: 2/25/96 Log Intro: The days have grown tense in the Willowholt, following the death of the Glider Gerren in the Trader Camp on the edge of Willowholt territory. This was not just any death -- for Gerren's magic turned him into stone, and no elf in the Holt has gone untroubled by his passing. Alarmingly, too, Brightfire has grown ill, and her frantic young lifemate Talek -- half-brother to Silversong -- has stayed at her side, trying to feed her the curative teas brewed by Sweetleaf, the Holt's ancient treeshaper.... ---------- Trollkiller's old den(#8737RL) Trollkiller's old den is, these days, most often used as a playroom, or as a guest den for visitors who are particularly close to Rillwhisper, Woodhawk, or Trollkiller. It is filled wall to wall with soft furs, and kept from becoming stuffy by regular use. Lying atop one pile of furs is a small wooden statue is of a large, fat, and somehow canny-looking bullfrog, like those found near the Willowholt pond. It is coloured a dark green, with little spots. Contents: Brightfire A bunch of brightly coloured leaves Obvious exits: Rillwhisper, Woodhawk, and Trollkiller's Den Out to Willow Tree Centre Brightfire has, by now, taken, Sweetleaf's tea; for a hand of days, it did wonders, and Brightfire seemed to be her usual self, feeling stronger and not so sensitive to the feelings of others. After that, though, something went dreadfully wrong, and the rangy elf all but collapsed just outside the holt, and has spent nearly all the time since then curled in a painful, almost literally glowing, ball. Talek lingers at his lifemate's side, worried, restless. Sweetleaf _promised_ he would help.... he promised....! "Is there water...?" Bright's voice is even rougher than usual. "Don't...worry...lifemate." An attempt at uncurling is only partially successful. "You being here...helps..." ** Water, aye.... ** Talek's sending is tiny, meek. He tries to roll you over, so that he can help you drink. Brightfire rolls, somewhat clumsily, with your assistance, trying to sit up. "Feel so strange..." No sendings, from the usually silent elf. "Thank you, love..." Talek bites his lip, holding the bowl of water steady for you. Brightfire drinks, carefully, only a sip or three, and then nods, with another whispered, "Thank you..." Talek, his silver eyes turned nearly black with worry, nods softly, then sets the bowl aside. His slim hand reaches to smooth your hair, but his touch is hesitant. _Her skin looks so... strained. As if she might burst..._ Brightfire leans against you for a few moments, looking at herself almost curiously. "Glowing," she says softly, and then, unusually, there is a quiet laugh. "I can ... /feel/ ... the holt, Talek ... " Talek swallows hard, and tries a weak smile, at your laughter. But the worry doesn't leave his eyes. ** ...? ** Brightfire's steely eyes slip shut as she leans against you, and she nods. Brightfire * whoops. Got my hands on the wrong keys. Let me repose. Brightfire's steely eyes slip shut as she leans against you, and she nods. "Magic ... the whole holt ... I can almost sense ... how they feel. I think Dusk is getting a cold..." Talek blinkblinks, and ventures timidly, ** But... Dusk went... with the others, to look for the chieftess... ** Brightfire blinks her eyes open in real surprise. "Can't be Dusk, then...but it /feels/ like her..." Then, more concentrated, and for the first time in days, sending, ** You feel all right. Not sick. Don't get sick, beloved... ** Talek tenses, inwardly shuddering at the... _blaze_, for he has no other concept for it, of his lifemate's sending. ** I'm alright... you'll be alright, too...! ** His gaze, as well as his sending, is half-plea and half-command. Brightfire shakes her head slowly, slipping a thin arm around you, no strength in her. ** Healer knows...Wolfrider knows...time to die... so sorry, beloved... ** Talek cradles you to him. His young arms, so insubstantial when he'd been rescued from the Preserver valley, have gained strength and muscle, and although he cannot match the mass of Trollkiller, or even NightDancer or Crystal or Woodhawk, he supports you effortlessly. Silver eyes turning liquid, he breathes, ** Die....? No...! You... you can't...! Lifemate... ** Brightfire sighs softly, and lifts a hand to your cheek, gold against pale. ** I can't heal this, Talek. Healing...makes it worse. My skin...you see my skin ... ** Talek pleads, ** Sweetleaf... his teas... he can grow something to help! ** With fright palpable in his eyes, he clings to you, now. ** Th-The Traders, they have Freeborn -- you know her -- she'll help....? ** ** It's the magic, ** she explains quietly. ** It's ... burning its way out ... and I can't stop it. ** Her sending, in return, is reassuring, calm. ** I don't think they can help, beloved. Any healing -- even Sweetleaf's teas -- has only made me weaker... ** Talek sends openly ** But... but how can that be....? There must be something... there must...! ** Brightfire shakes her head. ** I don't know, beloved. I don't know how to heal this. I'm so sorry... ** Talek for a long moment studies your face, desperately. Tears well in his gaze, as he at last realizes, his heart plummeting in his chest, what this means. His mental voice tiny, he sendmumbles, bleakly, ** I... I'll help! There must... ** Brightfire's sending is whispersoft. ** Hush, beloved. It's all right. Just stay with me. I can feel ... it isn't long, now. I think ... I can almost see the Palace ... ** The young elf weeps more visibly, and tightens his hold on you almost as if to try to keep you here. ** Iara... p-please don't go....! ** ** Oh, Ged... ** Brightfire's arms tighten around you a little, the most her waning strength can garner. ** You are strong now, beloved. You .will. be all right. And I -- I'll be nearby, Ged. Remember that. Tell our daughter tales of me, and howl with the tribe. You'll be all right, love. ** ** I.... I don't... Howl very well... ** The tears, now, stream down Talek's face. He blinks several times, and as gently as he can manage, caresses your hair, your cheek. Brightfire smiles, actually smiles, at that, a flash of joy in her tired face. ** True enough, love. My sweet Ged... ** She reaches up to capture your hand against her face for a moment, still smiling, and wryly, sends, ** Never thought to love you so ... my lifemate. So very glad ... to have found you. My bright Ged. ** Tears slip from her steely eyes, too, and she closes lashes on them, with another smile. Marginally relieved to see you smiling, Talek nevertheless still weeps. As your eyes close, he sends, shakily but clearly, the promise that he will share memories of you with the cub. ** Sh... she has wolf-strength, like you, beloved... I-I will tell her... how we grew into loving one another, Iara... ** Brightfire smiles again, and lifts her hand to touch your face once more. This time, there is true heat, nearly sparks, of golden fire from her fingertips, not burning, for it is healing fire, but hotter, more intense, than any magic that has come from Iara before. For a moment, she is still, sending, concentrating on another: Tinyhowl, a message of love and pride, and then her eyes open to look at you. Eyes of gold, now, filled with burning-out magic, no longer their steely blue. ** Beloved Ged ** is sent, nearly silent even through the silence of sending, and then, in truth, she does burn away, healing fire radiating out from her in a wild burst, washing through you, around the room, and, perhaps, through the holt. Talek cries out, aloud, not knowing what he utters. At the flash of fire, he presses his eyes closed... and when he opens them again, aghast, he crumples against you, sobbing. Zalen sends to the whole tribe ** What. ** In a send to the whole tribe, Pwyll sends, a little more emphatically, perhaps. Expectant. ** Is the tribe whole? ** Tinyhowl comes into the den nervously, silvery eyes wide. ** Momma...? ** Talek remains crumpled over Brightfire's form, still sobbing, his shoulders shaking vehemently. Tinyhowl's eyes grow even larger. ** Papa? Momma? What's wrong? Why's Momma not moving? Papa? ** Talek lifts his head, but only slightly, enough to tenderly lower Brightfire's unmoving form to the furs. With that same careful tenderness, he wraps them around her, weeping all the while. Only then, with that accomplished, does he turn a stunned and tear-filled gaze to his daughter. Tinyhowl's own eyes are filling with tears, partly because Momma's not moving, partly because Daddy's afraid. ** Papa? What's wrong? ** Talek swallows hard, then crawls, unsteadily, across the den to the cub. ** She's.... she's.... ** Unable to finish, he reaches awkward arms for Tinyhowl, attempting to draw her near. Tinyhowl runs into her father's arms, bursting into tears. ** Why? What happened? Momma! ** Talek whispers, roughly, "She's.... gone, child... she's... gone..." And with that, he trembles, so much so that he can barely grasp the small body in his embrace. Tinyhowl shakes her head. "No! Momma -- /Momma/!" She tries pulling away, to turn to Brightfire's form, tears streaming down her face. "I want Momma!" Numbly, Talek releases you. Tinyhowl lets go and collapses on her knees next to Brightfire, whimpering. ** Momma? Momma, wake up. Momma? Please? Momma? Papa, she won't wake up. ** In a send to the whole tribe, Tinyhowl, sobbing, replies more to Zalen than to Pwyll, ** Momma won't wake up...! ** Zalen sends to the whole tribe ** Where. ** In a send to the whole tribe, Tinyhowl, unhelpfully, blurts, ** Here! ** Talek looks over, slowly, his pale face a mask of misery. Tinyhowl turns around, flinging herself back at you. "Daddy...!" Talek lets the cub throw herself into his arms, and, still shivering, he embraces her. His gaze, though, goes over the small shoulder to Brightfire's unmoving form, and he stares bleakly at her through his tears. Tinyhowl clings to you, sobbing. ** Make her wake up, Daddy. Make her wake up. ** No-fur has arrived. Talek sits, crumpled, in the center of the den, with young Tinyhowl in his embrace; the cub is begging him to "make Mommy wake up." But Talek, his silver eyes awash with tears, is staring numbly over the cub's shoulder to the still form of Brightfire, lying wrapped in furs by the wall. No-fur looks in quietly. Talek mumbles, aloud, "I... I can't... she's... she's gone..." Tinyhowl wails, "Nooo!" and, as No-fur looks in, turns to him, hopelessly. "Make Momma wake up!" No-fur steps in quietly, saying nothing. No-fur locksends ** Was this what I felt? ** Talek lifts his gaze to No-fur, expression helpless, miserable. Standing out starkly against his pale skin, Talek's eyes are reddened, puffy, and by way of reply to a sending, he utters a strangled cough, sobbing anew. No-fur kneels quietly, sighing. No-fur looks quietly between Talek, Tinyhowl, and Brightfire. Tinyhowl, tearfully, looks at No-fur. "Can't you make her wake up?" Brightfire's form, wrapped carefully in the furs, is far thinner than even her usual rangy shape, and even with the spark of life clearly gone, there is a strangely golden hue to her skin, as if it has been touched by fire. The pale, shaggy length of her hair, too, holds an odd color to it, more faded than the death-gold tone of her skin, but still visible. Her tunic, of dark red, lies loosely over her, far too large for the rake-thin body before you. No-fur shakes his head slowly. "I don't think I can, cub." Zalen has arrived. Pwyll has arrived. Pwyll follows Zalen inside. Talek sits unmoving still, staring with tear-filled eyes at the unmoving shape of his lifemate. As Tinyhowl begs the chieftess's son to make her mother wake up, Talek winces, and presses his eyes shut, hard. No-fur looks quietly at the new arrivals, then back at the other two. Zalen arrives slowly, using his bow as a walking staff. Tinyhowl turns to the others entering, tears still streaking her face, and echoes her plea: "Can't you make her wake up? Please? She won' wake up." Pwyll opens his mouth, as if he might say something to Tinyhowl, then glances at Talek instead, and settles back into a faint frown, mouth closing again. Zalen leans heavily on the bow, levity lost from his previous efforts, looking at the scene with a calm face, but sad eyes. Tinyhowl looks from face to face, and shakes her head. ** M-make her... ** she whimpers, and then turns again to Talek, hiding her face against him. Talek, with his pale face reddened and tear-streaked, and his slim frame still trembling vehemently, looks as though someone must have belted him with a rock, as he stares, stunned, over his cub's head to Brightfire. At last he turns his liquid gaze up to the others, and mumbles, "I.... I don't know what to do..." No-fur puts a hand on Talek's shoulder, squeezing firmly. Zalen murmurs deeply, lips moving but little else, "A howl." He looks to No-fur stoicly and says, "A howl for all that are lost in this ..." he searches for a word Elves have never had a use for. With a plaintive, almost childlike gaze, Talek eyes Brightfire's body once more, and whispers embarrassedly, "I-I d-d-don't Howl very well...." Zalen leans back against the wall, bow pressed in his hands and admits with a quiet smile, "Can't be worse than me." No-fur shakes his head to Zalen. "How about a howl... When we figure out how to STOP it?" No-fur mumbles, almost to himself. "I need to talk to Sweetleaf." Tinyhowl mumbles, to her father's chest, "I'll howl for you, papa." Zalen nods and rests from his efforts in his strong sendings. Pwyll almost smiles at that. Almost. Then he adds, ** It doesn't matter whether you're good at howling. It just matters that you howl. ** Talek blurts, helplessly, as if only just now registering this, "Sweetleaf couldn't help... he couldn't help..." He looks up to the three faces regarding him with their earnest concern, and once more starts to weep. The small murmur from his daughter serves only to make him quiver. No-fur squeezes Talek's shoulder again. No-fur says "Sweetleaf was going to try to help." Talek gives another strangled cough, and shakily clasps Tinyhowl to him, even as he crumples towards the young chief's-son. Pwyll frowns again, and with a glance at Zalen, and another at Talek and the cub, ducks back out of the den. Pwyll has left. Tinyhowl whimpers, trying to support her father. "Papa, papa, don't you go too. Don't fall down. Daddy?" No-fur whispers quietly, standing. "I'll be back." No-fur slips quietly away. No-fur has left. Talek, as No-fur and Pwyll both slip out, lifts his head slightly to Tinyhowl, and blinks at her dazedly. Tinyhowl's eyes are terrified, as she looks at Talek. ** Don't fall down. Don't die, too. ** Talek lifts a shaking hand to his cub's head, and mumbles, "I..." He glances, then, between her and Zalen, face full of grief and shock. Zalen says quietly, still resting, "He won't." Tinyhowl nods worriedly, watching her father through tear-filled eyes. "Don't fall down," she whispers again. Zalen watches compassionately over the two, hands clenching the bow, resting against his cheek, and all he can do is watch another aftermath. Talek, as the cub huddles in his arms, looks meekly up at Zalen. "Wh... what should I do?" he whispers. Zalen watches on in continued silence, eyes hooded while he thinks, then says, "Leave her here until ... the others take her. They know better than I." Talek blinks, lashes damp, and sniffles. His voice rough from unaccustomed use as well as crying, he mumbles, "Cub... should take the cub out... Talek awkwardly scoops up Tinyhowl and unsteadily moves to clamber out of the den. Zalen nods and keeps his eyes on the motion, though painfully aware of the silence that once was life. Talek stumbles out, clinging to his cub's small shape in his arms. In the Old Willow(#220RL) The heart of the trunk of the massive Old Willow is a smoothly shaped, cozy chamber, with the occasional ripple in the surface here and there to hint that this massive tree was shaped from more than one. An assortment of furs are scattered about, along with a carved wooden stool or two, on which to sit. Higher up towards the top of the living chamber, handholds lead up to the top of the tree, where round crawl-holes can be seen leading into various dens. The light here is soft and shadowed, and faintly green. Round crawl-holes lead off here and there into various dens. Above are visible the upper branches of the tree, and off to one side, another hole leading out along an extending branch. Contents: No-fur Obvious exits: Out Rainfire Rillwhisper/Woodhawk/Trollkiller Guest Den Sentry Branch Up Type 'willowhelp' for Willowholt-related commands. You step out through the doorway and through the willow fronds. 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. Immediately to the northeast, overlooked by the mighty willow, lies a small pond; to the southeast, south, and west, paths to the Holt's more secluded parts; to the east, the distant marshes. It is a clear, cold day. Sunlight reflects off the white snow, almost painfully bright. The sun is high in the chill winter skies. Contents: Willowpaw Thornclaw Nightruff Obvious exits: Branch Old Willow Hillside Path Starwillow Copse Marsh Pond Type 'willowhelp' for Willowholt-related commands. Zalen emerges from the willow tree. Zalen has arrived. Zalen follows silently, head slightly bowed and his hair, grown some from his days as a child, swaying gently against his cheeks. Talek, still clinging to Tinyhowl's slight weight, stands in the clearing, looking dazedly about. He's come out without winter leathers on, but if he notices the cold, he gives no sign. Zalen leans again on the bow and moves quietly to unstring it lest he ruin the shape. He says nothing, perfectly, flawlessly, and lets life happen. Talek at last, apparently unaware of the cold moisture of the log under the Old Willow's branches, sinks down onto it and clutches Tinyhowl in his lap. The cub huddles against him, shivering in the frosty air; Talek stares miserably and blankly over her head, at nothing in particular. Zalen crouches down on the heels of his boots, watching as a warder. And after a time, Talek, occasionally sniffling, occasionally trembling, hugs his cub to him. Unsteady still, he slips off the log, huddling around Tinyhowl and hugging her with a near-strangling grip. Zalen murmurs, "It's too bitter out here to risk your health, Talek." Talek looks up hesitantly at the soft entreaty, and blinks at the black-haired elf as if not quite understanding what he said. Tinyhowl looks up, as well, still clinging to her father, silver eyes drooping with tiredness. Zalen says "Come inside." He rises on his long legs, leaning on the bow again. "At least away from the wind." Talek begins, hoarsely, "I... we... used Trollkiller's den..." Zalen says "My den is not being used and quite empty. But... come to the Willow, where ... others can share if they wish." Talek meekly rises, a flicker of gratitude in his otherwise heartbroken expression. Tinyhowl reaches up for her father, shaking. "Don't go away..." Tinyhowl Lanky, for a cub of an evident 8 or so turns, Tinyhowl's features are a blend of her parent's, silver-blonde hair starting to grow out long, in fine, drifting shags, often pulled back in a ponytail to keep out of distinctly silver eyes. Those eyes are highlighted with faint flecks of blue, brought to the fore by the richly shaded dress of sapphire that she wears. The leathers, though obviously new, have already seen some hard times, evidenced by dirt that has ground itself into knees and feet alike, disturbing Tiny not at all. Talek blinks, then hoists the lanky child up into his arms. Zalen murmurs, "Come." Zalen pushes aside the willow fronds and steps into the tree. Zalen has left. You push aside the willow fronds and step into the tree. In the Old Willow(#220RL) The heart of the trunk of the massive Old Willow is a smoothly shaped, cozy chamber, with the occasional ripple in the surface here and there to hint that this massive tree was shaped from more than one. An assortment of furs are scattered about, along with a carved wooden stool or two, on which to sit. Higher up towards the top of the living chamber, handholds lead up to the top of the tree, where round crawl-holes can be seen leading into various dens. The light here is soft and shadowed, and faintly green. Round crawl-holes lead off here and there into various dens. Above are visible the upper branches of the tree, and off to one side, another hole leading out along an extending branch. Contents: Zalen No-fur Obvious exits: Out Rainfire Rillwhisper/Woodhawk/Trollkiller Guest Den Sentry Branch Up Type 'willowhelp' for Willowholt-related commands. Tinyhowl steps into the tree from the clearing outside. Tinyhowl has arrived. Zalen leads in Talek and Tinyhowl and tosses a few furs together for them. Talek stumbles in after Zalen, and carries his cub in his arms. Then, mechanically, sinks down against the living wall of the tree. Tinyhowl curls up against Talek, clinging to him, half asleep through exhaustion. Talek slowly, very slowly, slumps over in a heap, while cradling his cub to him and fumbling for the furs offered by Zalen. It does not take very long before the anguished young elf, like his daughter, drops into uneasy slumber. [End log.]