"Wolfquest, Part 5" Log Date: 9/19/98, 9/21/98, 9/23/98 Log Cast: What Has Gone Before: After coming across Rillwhisper and rescuing her from the human hunters, Lonehowl decided that crossing the haunted valley was a reluctant necessity, for she needed water and her broken leg would not allow her to maneuver through the rougher terrain. Sure enough, they were both ambushed by preservers once inside the valley, sent to sleep by the pollen from the flowers. At times, they awoke, only to find the preservers ready to send them back to sleep. Sometimes, another elf called Keshah was there, and she seems to want Lonehowl for herself. However, things reached a point where Rillwhisper and Lonehowl had to settle down and fulfill their Recognition, and Nightwing, leader of a small gaggle of preservers, allowed them to, then let Lonehowl leave despite his reluctance to let Rillwhisper stay alone.... ---------- Silence. The evening is coming, casting the side mountains the palest of crimsons and the valley floor a deep green twilight. Soft breezes whistle through the trees and through the bushes and their violet-hued blossoms, sending golden dust dancing through the air briefly before it quickly settles. It is a picturesque scene, one of fantasy and beauty, with little flaw in appearance. Only the silence taints it, without song of bird and in lack of insects heralding the coming night. Not even the preservers seem to be about, though one might sense their presences even if they do not see nor scent or hear them. Their singing and chattering, and even their quarreling seems to have come to a momentary halt, leaving the valley seemingly lifeless save for the flora that fills it. It's an unnerving silence, to be sure, especially with the hunter gone. Rillwhisper has released Lonehowl from her embrace with as much reluctance as he'd shown to accept that freedom. He'd offered to help her with the awkward taskof dressing, for she'd not looked forward to pulling on her ruined breeches over the bindings that still immobilized her broken leg, but the chieftess had deemed it far more vital to get the young hunter going on his way. Besides, it has left her something to do in his absence.... and now, Rillwhisper has sat up from the carpet of petals and leaves that blankets the ground, reaching for her leathers, intending to inspect them for damage. Lonehowl, though, still fills her mind and her soul. _What will I do with you, hunter?_ she muses in wonderment, inspecting her travel-worn tunic. _Will you come back to the Willowholt with me, and be a sire to our cub?_ The cub, too, fills Rillwhisper's thoughts. She knows only that the youngling's soul now exists... and the notion that she will be a mother for a second time is occupying the chieftess, giving her something to turn round and round again in her thoughts, a balm of activity against the stillness that surrounds her. They make no noise as they watch her, bright and silent eyes from bushes and trees. Occasionally a whisper is passed, too soft to be heard even by a Wolfrider's ears with it uttered by tiny mouths and muffled by layers of leaves. The highthing is here, and soon a highbaby as well. But in the action they lost the other and now risk angering the newest player in the game, Keshah as well. It is only by luck alone that HoneyGold and its followers have not come to rain on their parade. The other preservers grow bored as they watch Rillwhisper, held back by Nightwing's command to go near her. Is the indigo preserver's hold weakened so much that it cannot trust its comrades to keep from wrapstuffing the Wolfrider maiden? Perhaps, perhaps. It alone keeps vigil without end, its fellows coming and going as they will. Only Nightwing refuses to leave 'sunnygreen highthing' on her own. Nightwing pokes its head out from behind the violet blossom that hides it, eyes blinking slowly and curiously as it watches the highthing dress. Its thoughts its own, it disentangles itself from the bush and glides into the air, the first sign of sentient life so far to show itself this evening. It hovers, then moves towards Rillwhisper slowly, its fingers weaving together. She needs, Rillwhisper knows, new leathers. But it's going to be some time before she'll be able to hunt anything with a hide large enough to clothe her... and her ability to hunt smaller things has her rather concerned, as well. Slowly and deliberately, she pulls her ragged green and gold tunic on over her head; when it's tugged down into place, she spies a flicker of indigo in the growing twilight, and she turns her head towards it. "Bug?" // Is Nightwing. // The preserver informs her sagely, its delicate features set into an oddly solemn expression. It's hands unclasp, posing at either side of it with palms flat and fingers curled inward. The dark blue sprite closes the distance between itself and the highthing, hovering in place in front of her, minute brows drawing together. // Manygrowlers highthing go byebye? // Now wearing the tunic though she's yet to pull on the breeches that had to be sliced open for the binding of her leg, Rillwhisper pauses in her dressing efforts and considers the little winged creature fluttering before her. "He's gone, aye," she says warily, avoiding elaboration. No need to tell the Preserver, after all, that Lonehowl fully intends to be back. The preserver nods acknowledgment, slowly, quietly. It seems to hesitate, its expression thoughtful, then unexpectedly, it blurts // Nightwing sorrysorry. // This takes Rillwhisper by surprise. She sits up a little, and with brows raised, asks, "What're you sorry for....?" // Make manygrowlers highthing go away. Sunnygreen highthing have sadface now. // It heaves a dramatic sigh, then lifts up further to the air and alights on Rillwhisper's head, petting her red-golden curls affectionately. // But isgood this way. Now sunnygreen and highbaby snugsafe. Nightwing take good careof, is promise. // Oh boy. Rillwhisper tries not to smirk, familiar though she is with the promises of Preservers. "Well," she says forthrightly, reaching for what's left of her leathern breeches, "if you want to take good care of me, Nightwing, the first thing you can do is to help me find food. I'm going to need it, to be strong for my highba--er, my cub." // Food? // Minute brows draw together again, a tiny wrinkle appearing on the preserver's forehead until its expression smoothens with recognition. // Hmm! Sunnygreen highthing maybe want juiceberries and beesweets? Isgood, Nightwing knows! // Juiceberries and beesweets. Rillwhisper suppresses the urge to roll her eyes; no, she knows what prolonged existence on the meager fare in this valley is liable to do to an elf, and the thought of juiceberries and beesweets holds no appeal. "What I _need_," she sighs, "is meat. Good red meat. But with my leg broken" -- she flicks a slender hand at the bound limb -- "I'm not going to be able to hunt." Nightwing ohs! and looks down at the indicated limb with a blinkblinkblink. // Hm. // It nestles down deep into the highthing's red-golden locks, its blue wings poking up like a bow atop Rillwhisper's hair. // Wethings too little, // it informs her after a moment. // Too little, no hunteat. But sometimes have fursofts wrapstuffed in flowerbushes. // Now we're getting somewhere. "Fursofts?" Rillwhisper echoes, trying to turn her head to find the bug, only to find more twilight and shadow behind her, as Nightwing has nestled in her hair. "You have animals wrapped up here?" Nodnodnod! Though she cannot see the preserver, she could still feel the rock of its body as it bobs its head enthusiastically in reply. // Is so! Got greatfurgrowl-thing from.. Eep. // It shuts up right then and there, wine-red eyes blinking rapidly. Rillwhisper frowns, finding something suspicious in that unfinished piping. But then, she finds something suspicious about the entire valley; this isn't a new development for the wolf-chieftess. "Did you see the bird that Keshah brought me?" she demands instead, her head slightly tilted as she converses with the Preserver in her hair, half an ear on the surrounding greenery. Again, that enthusiastic nod and a trilled reply: // Is so! Nightwing saw feathersoft! // "I don't suppose," Rillwhisper asks as casually as she can manage, "that you could bring me a feathersoft, bug?" // Is so! Nightwing do! Nightwing take good careof of highthing, will see! // And quicker than the sunnygreen highthing could say "puckernuts," the preserver is gone, vanishing between two bushes scattered with violet blossoms. Rillwhisper starts, feeling the slight weight leave her head, and for several long seconds she squints into the bushes where the Preserver vanished. Well. That was fairly easy. The question will be, though, will Nightwing bring her the promised bird before any of its friends decide to drop in, and what should she do in the meantime? The chieftess frowns, flicking a glance between her breeches and the bushes and the pool, and finally she decides she'd better start working on getting the rest of her leathers on. _After all,_ she thinks grimly, _this'll take me a while._ Time passes slowly and Nightwing does not return. The oppressing silence of the undisturbed valley returns during the preserver's absence, the only sound being that of faint breeze slipping through leaves, blossoms, and grass. Ripples appear in the pond as a leaf comes loose from a branch and drifts down to settle upon the water's surface. Then softly, a sound. And another. Until two identical forms emerge from opposite bushes, perching there to regard the lone maiden in bemusement. Doggedly, the she-elf has been working at the task of tugging her ragged breeches on, a job that leaves her in a sweat of effort as she inches the leathers bit by bit up past the wrapstuff, leather, and spears that hold her leg unmoving. She stops several times, panting for breath, and doesn't appear to see the new Preservers, not yet. A chirping voice. // Highthing look silly! // An echoed agreement. // Is so! Is funny! // Then silvery, yet melodic giggles as the twins lift up and take to the air, gliding leisurely towards Rillwhisper. // Highthing notgood allover? // Rainsweet queries, or maybe it's Sweetrain. Telling the difference between the two is nigh impossible and neither seems much inclined to introduce itself. // Got legbroke? // "Yes," growls Rillwhisper breathily, "my leg is broken." She looks up only long enough to ascertain the number and position of the arriving Preservers, before resuming the task at hand. // Awww! // The other preserver puts on a dramatic sad face, then clears it away with a dainty trill. // Poor highthing! Maybe wethings make allbetter? // Rillwhisper snorts. "I..." And she pants, before continuing, "... don't think so, bugs." Last she checked, Preservers weren't healers. // Rainsweet know! // At last, one identifies itself as it glides to hover - right in Rillwhisper's face, obscuring her view of her breeches as it beams up at her.. mischievously? // Rainsweet know how make allbetter! // "Stop that," the chieftess scolds the creature as it blocks her line of sight. And she adds sternly, "No wrapstuff. You promised." // Aww! // Rainsweet and Sweetrain whine in unison, but the former obliges the elfin maiden and gets out of the way, instead choosing to take up Nightwing's former seat atop Rillwhisper's head while the latter glides in lazy circles about them. Rainsweet sulks. // Is notfair. Rainsweet wantmake wrapstuff. // "Make all the wrapstuff you want," Rillwhisper grumbles, "just not on me. Got that?" In answer, the preserver only pouts: // Notfair. // "You promised," repeats the chieftess, unmoved. Finally, she gets her breeches tugged into something resembling their proper location, though she's had to pull herself up to lean against a tree to accomplish it, and she takes the time to slump there to get her breath back. The preserver concedes with a grudging nod, then lifts up from her head and rejoins its partner. Without so much as a farewell, both preservers disappear back the way they came, vanishing into opposite bushes with a rustle of leaves. And, as if on cue, Nightwing and another preserver, Leafdrop appear, lugging awkwardly a wrapstuffed bundle through the air. // Hellohello, highthing! // the former chirps. // Nightwing found feathersoft for highthing! // That actually makes Rillwhisper smile. She turns to settle down at the base of the tree, grateful for its support behind her, and she lifts her attention up to the arriving Preservers. "Let me see it," she entreats. Dutifully, the Preserver pair drop the bundle into Rillwhisper's lap once she is seated, the sticky bundle leaving silvery threads clinging to her breeches. It is not an overly large bundle, so whatever lurks inside is not a raptor of any sort or even a fisherbird. By weight alone, one would judge this catch to hold only one meal within. One meal, though, is enough for now. Rillwhisper studies the bundle... and then reaches for the flint knife Lonehowl has left her for her defense, inwardly wishing she hadn't lost her brightmetal dagger. Carefully, cautiously, she slits some of the wrapstuff strands, trying to get an idea of what's in there -- and how best to kill it quickly, if it yet lives. The presence of the Preservers is pushed to the back of her mind, all but forgotten in palpable hunger and her awareness that she will have to sustain herself well for the cub now growing within her. And the Preservers might as well be forgotten, for they perch close by, but silent, utterly so. They watch with bright, blinking eyes as slowly, but surely feathers start to appear, then wings, then a body. It is a small bird, but one that looks illsuited and alien in this sort of terrain. A lost flyer, it seems, seperated by its flock by unknown means that eventually led to its wrapstuffed capture here. A sleepy chirp escapes. "My apologies, little one," murmurs Rillwhisper. With one swift stroke, she drives the knife down into the tiny body, and once the bird is assuredly dead, begins the task of slicing off not only the rest of the wrapstuff, but also its feathers, to give her access to the flesh and the life-giving blood beneath. Leafdrop utters a soft, sad noise. // Poorpoor feathersoft, // it whispers mournfully before falling silent again. "Feathersoft is going to feed me and my cub," the chieftess says briskly, not in a mood to indulge any sadness from the Preservers. "I need to eat." The flint knife is not as good at her brightmetal one for the dismemberment of the small bird, but she keeps at it, and is eventually rewarded with a tiny slab of flesh which she greedily inhales. // Is not so! // comes quick arguement from the pale green Preserver, its nose lifting. // Highthing eat juiceberries and beesweets! Leave feathersoft all snugsafe! Leafdrop know is good, Leafdrop say -- // // Hushup now! // Nightwing cuts its companion off sharply, flicking it a Look. // Sunnygreen highthing eat feathersoft, make highbaby grow big. Take good careof. .Nightwing. take good careof. Nightwing say so! So there. // Rillwhisper, for the matter, also gives Leafdrop a Look. "I don't want your berries or your mushrooms," she informs it, "unless they're good for eating and not for dreaming. Got _that_?" Leafdrop HMF!s and folds its arms over its chest. It mutters, // Is so. // With that, Rillwhisper glances back to Nightwing, since it seems to be in charge of at least this portion of the flock of Preservers. "You. Do you know if there are any berries that don't make highthings dream here?" A bemused expression falls over the indigo preserver's expression, thin brows furrowing as it touches a finger to its cheek. // Hmm.. Is some, // it says after a time, doubtfully. // Greenberries. // Another slab of flesh is cut free from the body of the little bird, and Rillwhisper licks up every drop of blood she can get before she tells Nightwing firmly, "Get me some. I want to see them." A glance is thrown and Leafdrop vanishes, but not before muttering, // Bossymuch highthing. // Nightwing remains behind, boldly gliding forward to alight on Rillwhisher's shoulder. Rill notes Leafdrop's sullen departure, but feels no particular remorse. _It'll do them good to deal with an elf who can think,_ she muses. Picking off more shreds of flesh from the bird, she then peers sidelong as Nightwing perches there. The indigo preserver looks down at the bird that the highthing eats, its gaze curious and apparently oblivious to Rillwhisper's sidelong scrutiny. It rubs its chin, then points, commenting, // Feathersoft all messymuch now. Notgood allover. // "That's true," agrees the chieftess, "but I'll bury what's left of it." Nightwing's eyes widen, horrified. // What?? Is so?? No wrapstuff feathersoft? Will keep freshgood! // Mildly, Rillwhisper remonstrates the Preserver, "There's not going to be much of it left when I'm done, bug. It's only a bit of a meal and I need to eat it all." // Oh. // Nightwing falls uncharacteristically quiet with a slight incline of its head. To its - or perhaps, Rillwhisper's - good fortune, Leafdrop returns, arms laden with berries, before the bug feels the need to replenish conversation. // Leafdrop bring berries! // By now, Rillwhisper has already eaten most of the scant flesh of the body of the bird, and hunger has been only mildly soothed within her. With both wariness and hope she looks up at Leafdrop, saying gruffly, "Thank you -- let me see them?" And she holds out a hand. // Is so. // Compliantly, the preserver deposits the berries in Rillwhisper's open palm. They're roughly the size of a cheery and an emerald green in color. One would think them underripe at first glance, but tasting them brings about a tart taste that resembles dreamberries or redberries, but without the dizzying effects or the oversweetened aftertaste. The chieftess's exploration is careful at first -- but when she remains alert as best as she can determine, and neither the taste nor the smell seem to have any other undue effects, she wolfs down the rest of the berries that have been brought her, and it's with a kinder regard that she looks up to Leafdrop to tell it, "Thank you. Those will help me and my cub, too." Leafdrop nods grudgingly in response, but some of the sulk relieves itself from the preserver's face. // Is good. Highbaby need growup strong, // it says softly. All right, then. Two Preservers, perhaps, grudgingly won to her cause? Rillwhisper starts licking the remnants of blood and flesh from the tiny bird bones, and considers the little winged creatures. "Yes, highbaby needs to grow up strong. But it'll be a while. And in the meantime..." She sits up, glancing musingly around the area... and frowning at the pool. She needs water, she knows it... but that water? // Longtime? // Nightwing queries, its voice worried as it shares a glance with its fellow, then looks back to Rillwhisper. // Longlonglongtime? // "Two turns of the seasons, bug," says the chieftess absently, her mind on the issue of how to get water that won't befuddle her senses. The waterfall -- it's moving, flowing; surely it's not too infused with the pollen? Perhaps not. Most likely not. It is crystallinely clear, unfogged and in constant motion; if anything, even slightly so, the waterfall is cleaner and more ventilated than the undisturbed pond. Getting to the waterfall, though -- that's the problem. The twilight no hindrance to Wolfrider vision, Rillwhisper peers speculatively in the waterfall's direction, studying what lies between her and that downward rush of water. Bushes and trees are scattered at the edges, some of the terrain rockier there than that which immediately surrounds the Wolfrider. A tree grown old and stiff with time has finally fallen over, splintered bark and wood all around it, the grass yellowy beneath it. A mist rises where the water collides with water, soft and cool to the touch; everything within the vicinity of the waterfall bears a moist glaze, some areas more slippery than others. The tree... the fallen tree! Rillwhisper brightens, musing that perhaps, just perhaps, she might be able to acquire herself an extra leg if that tree has a branch that'll serve her need. But she needs to get _there_, too... and thus, she steels herself, and starts to get to her hands and knees. Nothing to it then, save to try it. And if she keeps moving... she can keep awake. Both preservers take to the air, flitting about Rillwhisper and making both noises of encourage and concern. // What highthing doing? // chatters Nightwing worriedly. // Get dirtymuch.. Maybe legbroke more! // "I need water," rasps Rillwhisper, beginning to laboriously crawl, "and I need to get to it. And that tree." // Wethings fetch sparklewater! Highthing nomove! // Nightwing answers, not in the least bit reassured. // Whyfor needget tree? // Crawl. Crawl. Crawl. Rillwhisper pauses for breath, then glances sidelong up at the hovering bugs. "I need _clean_ water," she declares. "And if that tree has a good branch on it, I can use it to walk." But before then, she has to get there. So once more, the chieftess continues to crawl. // Highthing noNEED walk! // the preservers cry in protesting unison, getting agitated as they flit about all the more quickly. // Wethings bring foodwater for highthing.. Noneed crawlaround, babywalk. // Rillwhisper is not in a mood to argue the matter. She merely growls throatily by way of reply, most of her attention focused on pulling herself along inch by dogged inch.... ----- [And meanwhile, out in the rest of the valley....] Lonehowl follows the water's path as he tries to find his way out of the valley, intent on meeting up with his wolf pack again, finding Rillwhisper's brightmetal knife back on the mountain, and rescuing her from the valley. He totes his spear and a human knife. Bits and strands of preserver wrapstuff is still in his hair, from an earlier encounter. HoneyGold is heard before it is seen, a high, piping voice importantly ordering another preserver around. // Fix wrapstuff good! Honeygold say so!// There is a flash of gold in a nearby tree. Lonehowl pauses, overhearing the tell-tale signs of more preservers at work. . o O (Puckernuts.) he thinks, lips tugging downward in a frown. Got to get out of this place without being noticed. On top of that, the flower's pollen would be bad to inhale yet again. His wolves must be waiting for him. How long's it been now, a day? Two, perhaps? They'll be there for him. Then he can go back for Rillwhisper. Lonehowl's wish does not come true this time. All of a sudden, two preservers come diving out of the tree, piping eagerly at each other. One, blue of color, swerves to fly towards a denser cluster of trees. The other continues straight towards Lonehowl... and comes to sudden holt in midhair, as if running into an invisible tree. // Highthing! Highthing for Honeygold! // The golden preserver exclaims its delight, dreamberry-purple eyes all wide. Lonehowl draws to a quick halt as well, with a golden preserver in his face. "Not again.." he mutters. Narrowing his eyes, he tells HoneyGold, "Move it, bug. I'm on my way out." HoneyGold waves its little hands about, alarmed. // Nononono! Highthing mustn't leave! Highthing must stay, in snugsafe homeplace. Honeygold say so! // The preserver flits closer. Lonehowl raises his hand, and puts it in front of HoneyGold's smallish form. "I've heard enough of that from all of you cursed bugs. Now get out of my way." He steps forward, to continue on in spite of what the preserver does. HoneyGold evades the hand, spiralling around Lonehowl just out of arm's reach. // Ooooh, nice highthing stay with Honeygold! Honeygold will fetch beesweets and sparklewaters! Will be good! // It launches into a happy song, trying to aim for Lonehowl's hair //ReeeDEEEdeeeREE!// Lonehowl barely manages to duck out of the way of HoneyGold, so it misses his hair. However, the sound of the singing is enough to cause the hunter to wince in pain - what a grating sound! "Go /away!/" he growls, covering his ears and propelling himself forward. HoneyGold screeches in distress as its newfound highthing moves away. // Noooo! Highthing stay! Honeygold take good care of! // Deciding to add action to words, it dives low on the next spiral and aims a spray of wrapstuff at Lonehowls legs! Not a good idea, that. Nobody's going to get Lonehowl on their side by trying to wrapstuff him. The sticky strands are enough to cause him to stumble at first, but he doesn't fall, taking the human blade in his hands to slice between his legs, freeing himself again. Without stopping, he snarls, "What part didn't you get, bug? I'm /not/ staying here, and I'm /not/ your highthing!" HoneyGold flits away again, diving into the trees with loud wails of complaint that grow fainter into the distance. It seems to be headed for the denser grove of trees. Tumbleberry emerges from the copse. Tumbleberry has arrived. Rosebud emerges from the fog surrounding the pool. Rosebud has arrived. Bad thing getting worse, it seems, for Lonehowl can hear the chattering and it's clear to him that the bug's off looking for more of its minions. With that obvious enough to him, Lonehowl begins to run. He runs as fast as he can, nearly stumbling and falling a couple times, balance the only thing keeping him up. Lonehowl's surmise is all too accurate. Before long, three flashes of gold, pink and green zip out of the trees, catching up with the stumbling wolfrider before he can reach the valley wall. The golden one commands // Make wrapstuff now! Honeygold say so! Keep highthing all snugsafe! // Lonehowl knows that running without defending himself probably isn't going to get him very far. Holding a spear and human blade in his hands, he turns to square off with the trio of preservers. "You won't have me, bugs!" he growls, waving the blade at the closest one. HoneyGold zooms upwards and to the right, the green preserver aims left at waist level, while the littlest, pink one flits downwards, keeping back a little. At Honeygold's urging, all the preservers start spitting wrapstuff at Lonehowl, aiming first for his arms and legs. "N-no..! Stop it!" Lonehowl exclaims as it begins to happen. Slashing down with the blade, he undoes a couple strands of wrapstuff aimed at his legs, but his spear-arm winds up caught in the webbing, then his other follows soon after. Harder to move them, he thinks sticking around was a grave mistake, and fruitless as it may be, he tries to get out again, the end of the valley in sight. In a panic, he sends, seeking Rillwhisper. ** Twyr..! <> ** HoneyGold flies in slow circles around Lonehowl, the strands of wrapping covering him ever more densely, finally immobilizing his arms. The other two preservers get bolder, spraying wrapstuff with abandon to make sure their new highthing is all safe and snug and wrapped up! Lonehowl's weapons drop to the valley floor, of no more use to him now with his arms pinned to his sides. Shortly, he can't even hop far enough to get out of the valley. Again he sends, actual fear creeping into his words. ** Twyr..! Bugs! They're...! ** He staggers, and falls over onto his back, unable to do anything more. His eyes widen as he manages to look down at himself. This is most definitely /not/ good. "Stop..! I have to get out!" HoneyGold pauses his task long enough to chirple to Lonehowl in a friendly way, hovering right over his face. // Highthing all safe now. Honeygold happy, new highthing to take care of! // With that, it aims a final blast of wrapstuff at Lonehowl's head, sealing the top of the cocoon. After that, the three preservers take their time about carefully completing the wrapstuff, leaving a perfect cocoon. Tumbleberry, in a fit of enthusiasm, even wrapstuffs the weapons where they fell. Their work complete, all three preservers hover above the wrapstuffed shape, chattering happily at each other about their deed, before finally flitting down towards the center of the valley. Perhaps there are more new highthings to take good care of? ----- [HoneyGold and its compatriots, however, will have to get in line behind Nightwing and the Preservers in its little band, for they already have their tiny hands full with Rillwhisper. Back with her...] And yet, though the argument is one-sided, the preservers continue to flit around the entire journey towards the tree, protesting and whining their little hearts out. They can flit all they want, as long as they don't pull anything else. It takes many long minutes, timeless in the shadowy twilight, before Rillwhisper finally reaches her goal. And once there, she slumps against the fallen tree, panting, sweating, out of breath. It takes her rather longer to lift her gaze to study the nearest of the branches, trying to determine if any of them might serve her as a crutch. The wood is stiff and brittle. Most of what the Wolfrider might see is broken or rotted, the moist air just right for fungi to flourish. Some pieces, here and there, look steady enough to be a crutch, but most are too small or too thick, or have many branches sprouting out on all sides. Rillwhisper frowns at her discoveries, sitting up at last with an effort, peering at the mushrooms that have sprouted all along the tree's fallen shape. She breaks off a portion of one of the shrooms and sniffs at it, unwilling to ignore any potential sources of food, but not about to eat anything that smells dangerous. _All right, chieftess, now what?_ And she sits there, worn, weary, frowning tightly at the tree. The mushroom smells safe enough. In fact, it doesn't smell like anything at all. No doubt it's tasteless as well. As her gaze shifts to the tree, the preservers alight on random bushes, still chattering nonsense. The first nongibberish phrase to escape comes finally from Nightwing, craning its neck towards her: // What wrong? // The chieftess cautiously samples the shroom fragment, and as she does, she peers back at the Preservers. "I need a branch off this tree," she tells Nightwing, "but none of these look right. I need a branch to be able to walk on." The mushroom is blandly tasteless and, to Rillwhisper's good fortune, lacks the certain effects that sets the other valley fungi apart. It is a mushroom and nothing more, not even remotely bad in taste. Nightwing returns her peering glance with one of its own, reddish eyes narrowed briefly, then blinking slowly in recognition. // Highthing noNEED walk! // it pipes in aghast protest. // Wethings - .Nightwing! - take good careof sunnygreen highthing! Noneed walk! Might get legbroke more! // The sister of Sweetleaf has no compunctions about using mushrooms for food, and after a few moments, when this one doesn't seem to do anything to her, she wolfs down the morsel and eyes the tree, wondering about finding more and whether she should consider hoarding them. Nightwing's protest goes only half-heard, and Rill mutters absently at it, "I need things you can't get me, b--" Abruptly, then, she cuts off, her head snapping around, her gaze flying out into the valley. ** Hunter?! Lonehowl?! ** "Curse it..." She starts trying to sit up again, to pull herself to her knees, her eyes beginning to blaze. ** Hunter, I'm coming...! ** Without hearing the sendings themselves, the Preservers know something is amiss. The air grows slightly heavier, the tension around their chosen elfin 'pet' thicker - and then she moves. Nightwing and Leafdrop dart into the air again, flitting about like frightened hummingbirds, their own eyes wild and frightened at the Rillwhisper's sudden change in mood. // No no no! Highthing sit DOWN! No move! Will make legbroke allworse! Sit down, bestill! Will hurtlegbroke again! // By way of reply, the chieftess hurls an angry green glare up at the bugs and snarls, "He's being wrapped! You _said_ you'd let him go!" Surprised confusion blasts across Nightwing's delicate face with the force of a monsoon, looking utterly bewildered for the briefest of moments before it shouts back, voice high-pitched in protest, // Nightwing no say wrapstuff! Is NOT true! Nightwing say no wrapstuff, other wethings say yes! Nightwing NO tell fib! // "He _calls_ me," growls the chieftess, "and I'm going whether you like it or not, pest!" Determinedly, she hauls herself to her knees and starts crawling across the petal-and-leaf-strewn terrain, unheeding of any abuse her palms or her one good knee might take from the exercise. // Is. NOT. TRUE! // And suddenly Nightwing is in Rillwhisper's hair, pulling the same tactic it did on Lonehowl days ago. It's twig-thin arms dive deep into her red-golden locks to the roots, fingers curling about the strands, and yanking hard! // Highthing not go ANYWHERE! Highthing made promise - Manygrowlers highthing go and sunnygreen highthing and highbaby stay! Was PROMISE! // The pain is enough to halt the chieftess, and with a wolfen snarl she bats at the Preserver in her hair, trying to dislodge it. "Let... GO! I've got to _help_ him! Let.... GO!" // No no no no no no! // Elfin fingers find the preserver and can catch it, but it clings so fiercely to her hair it's nigh impossible to get it loose. It's high-pitched voice turns grating, like fingernails clawed across smooth, bare rock - and then it shrieks, // LEAFDROP! // And there's the second Preserver, zipping down as quickly as can be. A silvery-white line escapes from its mouth as it spits at Rillwhisper, trying to get to her face. Rillwhisper's snarled words degenerate to basic snarling, and she loosens her grasp on Nightwing, blinded, now trying to duck out of the way of the incoming strands. The side of her neck takes the blast of wrapstuff, in the meantime. Nightwing still pulls her hair and Leafdrop still spits wrapstuff at her face, and now (as if things weren't bad enough), two more players enter the game. Rainsweet and Sweetrain appear in the scene, drawn by the ruckus; their tiny faces scrunch with puzzlement and uncertainty, but all it takes is a few shouted commands from their indigo leader before they move to action. Where did those blossoms come from anyway, appearing so quickly in preserver hands? Yet how they came to be there matters naught when the more pressing issue of what they're doing .with. them arises: The twins glide above the ruckus and start to shake the flowers, double showers of golden dust floating down over the two other preservers and the struggling highthing. Frantically now, as the wrapstuff blinds her, Rillwhisper crumples over and claws at the strands trying to coat her face. She reflexively coughs, fearing she'll choke on the silvery stuff -- and takes in a lungful of the dust, which forces her to cough even more. "N-no! Stop it! Stop it, I have to help him...!" Vaguely, Nightwing's voice can be heard above the rising dizziness and unwanted sluggishness. // No no no! Highthing promised would stay, would have highbaby for Nightwing take careof! No leave now, is too soon! Made promise! Highthing stay! // Dimly, the highth - no, elf! - might realize that the wrapstuff has stopped coming, that nothing more clings to her face than what is already there. The golden shower still keeps coming steadily as Leafdrop joins the pair. Her world vanished in silver wrappings, Rillwhisper falls heavily over onto her side, strands clinging to her fingers that she's managed to pull free from her mouth. She coughs feebly, mumbling, "No..." And with her other hand, she bats unseeingly at the dust, still feeling it coming down, brushing against her jaw and chin, getting into her throat. "Stop it..." Once the highthing falls, the preservers stop in their assault. Leafdrop, Rainsweet, and Sweetrain abandon their blossoms and Nightwing unentangles itself from amongst the highthing's red-goldish hair, gliding up to join them, then down again to perch on her shoulder. // Highthing not go anywhere, // it says softly, but firmly, a frown set on its face. // Highthing made promise. // There might be a frown on the Preserver's miniscule visage, but Rillwhisper, her eyes coated, cannot see it. She can hear the tiny piping voice just above her ear, though, and she coughs some more, trying to clear her throat. "Lonehowl," she croaks. // Manygrowlers highthing go away. Remember? Sunnygreen highthing made promise to stay, manygrowlers highthing go. // Her head is spinning, somewhere within the silver wall that has descended across her sight. Rillwhisper, still lying on her side, lifts a hand to fumble at the wrapstuff there, but her motions are beginning to slow, and she keeps coughing, trying to breathe. "But he has to come b--" She starts this, then cuts herself off. No. Can't tell the bugs he'll return.... // Highthing NO come back, remember? Sunnygreen here forever. // The preserver sounds so haunting, so villainous. It's speech is childlike and soft, almost maternal, but at the same time is almost sinister in its possessiveness. But even its voice fades amongst the silvery surroundings and the pollen-thick air. // Nightwing takegood careof highthing and highbaby. // "I... can't see," coughs Rillwhisper plaintively, her voice losing strength. "Can't breathe..." // Highthing go stillquiet littlewhile, yes? Make head feel better, calmdown too. Highthing go stillquiet, all niceynice. Nightwing keep snugsafe. // The she-elf's hand drops down heavily from its last few awkward pawings at her face, and slowly, Rillwhisper rolls onto her back. For a few moments she lies motionless, and then she mumbles, "Don' wanna be stillquiet..." // Tsk tsk. // Tiny hands pat what of Rillwhisper's face isn't covered by wrapstuff affectionately. // Go stillquiet now, highthing. Is better when wakeup later. // "Can't... sleep," argues the chieftess, her voice beginning to thicken, to slur. "Need... food. Water. For cub. Need Lonehowl..." // Manygrowlers go away, sunnygreen. Nightwing get foodwater later. Now stillquiet time. // "Don't.... don't wanna be..." Rillwhisper lifts a hand again, weakly, trying to reach for the voice near her ear. Fingertips lightly brush against the sprite's gossamer wings, but Nightwing flits out of reach, to her shoulder, within a moment. // Hushup now. // It's voice grows stern, but not irritated. Much like a mother would speak to her child, though the preserver adopts the pose with comical accuracy. // Is stillquiet time. Sunnygreen all fuzzyhead - out of mind. Time to rest. // And Rillwhisper's hand falls, leaden, to the ground beside her and just up by her head. Now motionless, she mumbles, "I'm... sleepy. Made me sleepy. Don't..." There's that soft, insistant voice by her ear again. // Is good is sleepy. Highthing go stillquiet. // "It's... good?" This sounds wrong to the blinded chieftess... but, curse it, it's so hard to think.... Isn't it? And the preserver is oh, so convincing, its voice no longer harsh and commanding, but gentle and soothing again. Its nimble fingers idly try to work out a snarl in her hair, wrought by its own actions when Rillwhisper tried to get away. // Is good, very good. Highthing legbroke, might hurt again. Now fuzzyhead-badtalk.. Tsk. Highthing need rest. Stillquiet. // That the bug has the nerve to accuse _her_ of incoherent speech would, if Rillwhisper were more awake, make her snort. As it happens, it merely triggers off a slight ripple of confusion in her brain, which vanishes into the silver haze around her senses almost as quickly as it comes. "All right... then... I have to get Lonehowl..." Nightwing blinks!! // No no no, is not good. Manygrowlers farfar away, sunnygreen! Highthing not make it! Get hurt, legbrokemore! // "But I have to... I have to..." Her voice is softening into a whisper, and her head lolls slightly to one side. // Highthing haveto go stillquiet, // the preserver fills in unhelpfully, its voice firm once more. // Is not right in head. Go sleepybye now. // The chieftess doesn't answer, her mouth softly closed now, her only motions the slight rise and fall of her breast... for at the Preserver's urging, she has, indeed, gone stillquiet. And with that, Nightwing smiles, looking both relieved and pleased. It sighs, moving into a sitting position atop the highthing's shoulder. It pats her redgolden hair affectionately, saying softly to itself, // Good highthing. Good good highthing. // [To be continued...]