"Wolfquest, Part 8" Log Date: 10/23/98 Log Cast: Rillwhisper, chieftess of the Willowholt Lonehowl, a Wolfrider hunter Nightwing, HoneyGold, Tumbleberry, Rosebud, Leafdrop, Sweetrain, and Rainsweet, Preservers Keshah, a maiden of the Sun Folk The wolves of the pack of Lonehowl What Has Gone Before: At last, Lonehowl has returned to Rillwhisper's side in the valley, only to discover that the chieftess he's Recognized has fallen deep into flower-imposed dreaming. Awed by visions of their cub that she has sent him -- never mind whether or not they're real or the product of Rill's dreaming imagination -- the hunter dropped into a deep communion with her, and after a send-sharing deep enough to rattle both their souls, Lonehowl and Rillwhisper have roused themselves up out of the pollen-sleep and made a valiant effort to flee the valley. They've even convinced Nightwing to help them escape by leading them to where Rillwhisper's own Preserver Fallberry had been trapped... but much to the dismay of both elves and the Preserver, the rest of the little winged ones who had been keeping company with Nightwing have rebelled against their chosen leader. Leafdrop, Rainsweet, and Sweetrain have felled the two highthings again. And Nightwing has been left to guard them, keeping its own counsel as to whether it had _really_ been going along with the plans of its chosen elves.... ---------- Quiet has descended once more upon the valley's eternal gold-dusted twilight. In the midst of flowers and bushes trampled by their attempt at flight, the chieftess and the hunter lie where they have fallen, unmoving, silent, tranquil. For Rillwhisper, all that stands between her and misted darkness is the vague niggling sense that something is... wrong. Her heavy eyes barely able to open, her memory telling her that she won through this fog trying to blot out her thoughts before, the she-elf strives to grasp anew that inner strength she'd employed to rouse herself. To call for... _Who? Yes... the hunter..._ To send. To rise, to open her eyes, to move a single finger. After the hunter fell on his shoulder and tweaked it, he soon succumbed to the pull of sleep, once again courtesy of the pollen in this haunted valley. The sleep was..is a peaceful one, but one other little detail has become apparent since the time Rillwhisper went unconscious - Lonehowl's been wrapped. Again. Nightwing hovers in the air, both keeping an eye out and an eye on the two highthings beneath it. It descends briefly, a silvery line of wrapstuff flicking out and patching up a break in the finished coccoon, then up again. . o O (Nightwing got highthings now. Take goodcare of, willdo verygood. Makesure notwant leave again! Nightwing know, makesure.) It emits a wistful sigh. (Soon, maybesoon, have highbaby to takecare of too...) There is a rustle among the flowers, and Honeygold flits into view, followed closely by Tumbleberry and Rosebud. Taking in the scene, it oooohs. //Highthings!//. Flying over to the little group, it scolds Nightwing. // Should have told Honeygold! // _I have to move,_ Rillwhisper thinks distantly, the concept barely more than a sluggish stirring in her pollen-thralled brain. Everything around her is a smear of variegated colors, purple and gold and green with glimmers of other hues in between; sound, too, is smeared, and she can hear indistinct, high-pitched pipings somewhere on the fringe of her consciousness. This, too, disturbs her, and the chieftess redoubles her efforts. Eventually, she achieves the tiniest of moans, the twitching of one leaden hand dropped across her waist. Nightwing whips about, berry-red eyes opening wide. It blurts immediately, // Is .Nightwing's. highthings! // then shies back a few inches, frowning. Where are its followers when it needs them? // NotNEED tell HoneyGold.. not HoneyGold's highthings! Nightwing's highthings, Nightwing takecare of! Go 'way! // HoneyGold plants its hands at it's waist, hovering in front of Nightwing. // IS Honeygold's highthings! Honeygold say so! Honeygold say wrap Highthings, not Nightwing. // Voices. Those are voices, little ones, piping... _Preservers._ Rillwhisper opens her eyes a fraction more, her gaze shifting slowly in the direction of the small colored blurs moving against the backdrop of leaf and vine and flower. _Puckernuts... got to move..._ It takes her another mighty effort to do so, but she slides her gaze down along herself, looking for wrapstuff, dimly hoping she can focus her vision enough to discern it if it's there.... Two pink heads and a pale green pop out of the nearby bushes, drawn by the commotion and arriving just in time to see Nightwing's eyes all but bug out of their sockets. // Nononono! Is Nightwing's highthings, NIGHTWING takecare of! -- And Nightwing say, no wrapstuff! Go 'way! Gowaygowaygowaygoway! // HoneyGold gapes in disbelief at the rebellion, then shrieks angrily. // Honeygold say make wrapstuff for highthings! // It turns to its followers, pointing at Rillwhisper. //Make wrapstuff now!// The pipings are growing louder, impinging upon the chieftess's consciousness. _Think,_ she orders herself groggily. Each stirring of her mind feels exactly as if she's wading through liquid mud, but with dogged determination, Rillwhisper begins to force her mind through the steps she needs to move herself. Reach inward... deep inward... reach for the pool, chieftess. Got you out before, it'll do it again. Hang onto that strength. Look up. What do you see? Blurs... leaves? Flowers? Must be. Listen. Preservers. Must move quietly, quiet as only a Wolfrider can, and not attract them... And thus, slowly, painfully slowly, Rillwhisper glances down the length of her body. Strands of wrapstuff still cling haphazardly to her rumpledly clad form, left over from the attack which Lonehowl had taken in her defense. Enough to keep her from moving? No. All right, chieftess, turn the head, just enough to look, find the hunter.... And the hunter is not far off, a perfect wrapstuff cocoon marking his presence. // NO! // Nightwing squalls, horrified, and darts forward towards HoneyGold. Almost on reflex, Leafdrop and Rainsweet - or is that Sweetrain? - flit up and mimic the indigo bug's actions, flying towards the other two Preservers. Rosebud and Tumbleberry are already moving towards Rillwhisper, ready to obey the command. The first strand of wrapstuff shoots towards the prone chief. Meanwhile, Honeygold meets Nightwing's charge, scolding at the other. // Bad, bad Nightwing! Do what Honeygold says! // _Timmorn's Blood..._ Worry stirs through Rillwhisper's thoughts, disturbing the clinging fog. He's wrapped? That must be Lonehowl, who else could it be, so close, just out of arm's reach? _Think, chieftess, -think-!_ How wrapped is he -- what's that? Something brushing against her leg? The she-elf makes a low groaning growling noise in the back of her throat, and with an effort, rolls herself on her side, towards the captured hunter. ** ......... Gyrr. Hear.... me.... Gyrr! ** Alas, there is no answer from Lonehowl's wrapped form...yet. Rainsweet and Leafdrop bowl towards Rosebud and Tumbleberry, seeking to slam into them and perhaps cut their concentration and stream of silvery webbing. Their would-be leader, Nightwing continues to shout, its and HoneyGold's becoming dominant amongst the ruckus. // Nightwing notdo what HoneyGold say! Is NOT HoneyGold's highthings, is Nightwing! Go 'way or- or- or Nightwing scratch! sting! Nowrapstuff highthings! // HoneyGold says "// Wrapstuff highthings! // Without further words, Honeygold flies right into Nightwing, grabbling with its rival for the control of the highthings. Rosebud meeps, frightened, and flees the oncharge of Rainsweet and Leafdrop, while Tumbleberry bravely tries to evade them to continue it's task." Rillwhisper swallows, eyes opening a little more as she begins to register the escalating argument in the air above her. They're fighting, chieftess. Use the opportunity. Keep moving. Wake up. Finger at a time, there you go. Now the hand. Reach for the cocoon... Lonehowl's scent, somewhere under the choking, cloying flower-smell... he's there. Move. Slowly, silently, try to ignore the spinning of the world around you... touch the cocoon. Wrapstuff slick and silver beneath your fingertips. ** .... Gyrr! Hear me! ** Somewhere beneath her haze, the chieftess connects with that inner core of her soul she's been struggling to contact... and her eyes come fully open. Despite the notable lack of movement inside the cocoon, Lonehowl's mind begins to awaken. Slowly, hazily. ** ..Tw...Twyr..? ** Keshah emerges from the fog surrounding the pool. Keshah has arrived. Keshah hurries towards the piping of the infuriated preservers, stopping for a moment to stare wide-eyedly at the scene. Sweetrain is perched on her shoulder, but leaps it the air with a distressed cry. // Wethings no fight! // Nightwing squawks! in disbelief and surprise as HoneyGold slams into it, momentarily losing its hover to fall in descent - then it flaps its wings reflexively and it's aloft again, though barely. // No wrapstuff! // it squeals, tiny hands whipping out as it claws at the golden Preserver. Meanwhile, Leafdrop tries to catch Tumbleberry and grab it, or do something to prevent the wrapstuff from happening. Rainsweet darts after Rosebud, then slows at the sound of its twin's voice, momentarily distracted. ** It's me, hunter.... ** Rillwhisper's sending is still thready, still half-focused, but it begins to gain clarity as she ever so slowly pulls herself up to her elbows, trying to pull herself closer to Lonehowl's cocoon. She makes it over, supporting herself on one arm while running a hand over as much of him as she can reach, her expression grimly set save for the half-muzzied glaze to her green eyes. ** Get you out. Send to me. Reach for me. Like before.... ** Honeygold flutters its wings to stay aloft as it closes with Nightwing again, grabbing at the other preserver to try to immobilize it. Rosebud vanishes into the bushes with a vail as Sweetrain flies over to Rainsweet, chittering at it and Leafdrop in distress. Tumbleberry's attempt at wrapstuff fails as it gets into a fight with Leafdrop. Lonehowl's wrapped form remains still, unmoving, though he tries to grab on to Rillwhisper's words like an anchor, to come back from wherever it is that he is. ** I..hear you. So far away..what's happening? ** Keshah places her fists at her waist, echoing Honeygolds posture for a moment. Then she wades into the fray, shooing at the preservers. "That's enough, all of you! Go away! I will deal with the highthings." Rainsweet and Sweetrain, with some relief, fly off into the trees and abandon the fight. Not so Honeygold and Nightwing, who are still going strong. ** They wrapped you, hun--** Rillwhisper cuts off, Keshah's voice dispelling more of the mist sliding through her thoughts. The chieftess lets out a startled little gasp, lifting her head and peering blearily in the newcomer's direction. Nightwing's hand is grabbed and immobilized, but its other hand comes quickly around, trying to slap HoneyGold. It, for the moment, doesn't take note of Keshah's arrival, shrieking furiously, // Leave Nightwing's highthings alone! Is NIGHTWING'S highthings! // ** A..gain? ** Lonehowl's answer is distant, weighted down by the heaviness around him. His thoughts drift, wandering gradually. Nightwing's slap is cut short, as is HoneyGold's furious rejoined, by two brown hands shooting out of the air and grabbing the startled preservers firmly. Keshah holds the two apart as she raises them to eye-level, glaring at them. "MY highthings. I say so. Understand?" Rillwhisper rolls over again, pushing herself on shaky arms into sitting up, stoically enduring the swirling this causes in her awareness. ** Again, ** she affirms to Lonehowl, stubbornly keeping the sending link open between them, trying to channel him some of her resolve. ** Stay with me, hunter... ** She focuses her gaze on Keshah, though, a frown tugging at her mouth at the maiden's declaration. The chieftess has issues with being _anyone's_ 'highthing', but she's willing to wait till the Preservers are chased off before arguing this out with the other elf... Nightwing meeps! Its eyes go round and pinkish-red, blinking rapidly as it finds itself momentarily without wits enough to answer. Lonehowl's private send to Rillwhisper is touched with a hint of humor. ** Stay with you..? Why, Twyr..I'm wrapped. Can't..go anywhere, can I? ** His words hold a faint smile to them, despite the time being improper for any joking. Keshah stares at each preserver into turn, then marches over to the edge of the clearing before releasing the preservers. "If you're going to fight, do it elsewhere. I'll deal with you two afterwards." Honeygold hovers, looking at the verge of protest. At a particularly furious glare from Keshah, it finally relents and vanishes into the trees. Rillwhisper summons up another quantity of inner resolve... and channels it into making her mouth work. "You," she coughs out huskily to Keshah, gesturing at the cocoon, "help me... help me release him." A beat, and then she adds, ".... please." And inwardly, the chieftess's spirits rally a little; if Lonehowl is alert enough to make jokes, perhaps it won't be difficult to wake him up. ** You won't have to be still for long, hunter, ** she sends back as bracingly as she can manage. ** Keep sending to me...! ** The joke was apparently a one-time deal, for the humor leaves Lonehowl quickly as it came. ** Why..what's happening, dearest Twyr..? ** Keshah returns to Rillwhisper and the cocoon, pulling out her bronze knife as she approaches. Nodding curtly to the wolfrider chief, she kneels and cuts open the cocoon with great care. Strands of the sticky stuff snag at her knife, but finally, Lonehowl is freed. The indigo Preserver huffs! and darts away from Keshah, muttering something about 'badbad nighthair highthing', then yeeps! as HoneyGold flees the scene. It starts to dart after, then stops as the sunnygreen highthing speaks. Nightwing turns and looks, delicate brows drawing together as it hovers on the edges of the scene, watching silently. _Dearest....?_ Rillwhisper blinks once at that sending from the hunter, but she sends back readily enough, ** The bugs were fighting... Keshah is here. she has a knife. letting you free. Wake up for me, Gyrr....? ** Aloud, Rillwhisper rasps, "Thank you..." And as soon as she can, she starts helping free the hunter, plucking at strands of the silvery webbing and pulling htem off his recumbent form. Dearest, indeed. Lonehowl's rather fallen for the Chieftess - this may finally be evident to Rillwhisper, if not before. As the strands are cut and pulled from him, he makes a quiet groaning sound, the sleep-state drawing to an end. ** Coming, Twyr.. ** he answers, eyes beginning to flutter. Keshah watches the two, tapping her hand against the hilt of her knife in a rather irritated manner. Her annoyance isn't lessened by the affection shown between the two wolfriders. Finally, she snaps at Rillwhisper. "Leave him alone. You've done quite enough already. If you hadn't kept trying to make him leave, the preservers wouldn't have tried to wrap him in the first place." Nightwing hovers in the background, then ventures closer, a frown still on its face. It murmurs unhappily, // Pretty wrapstuff all broken.. //, but is otherwise quiet. Memory stirs in Rill again, slow at first, then breaking forth with more speed, a breath of wind clearing more and more of the fog from her brain. _Dearest..._ Aye, that one sent word calls up the abrupt and vivid recollection of how Lonehowl had reached that inner, secret place in her soul... and how his own soul had felt, melding with hers. _Can you really be surprised, chieftess?_ the back of her mind asks her. For a moment, her dust-smeared face lightens with a beam of tender affection, before her attention snaps up to Keshah. Green eyes blinking, dark golden brows drawing together, she answers sternly, "I have a tribe to get back to... and this is no place to raise a cub. I don't want to stay. Neither does he." Lonehowl's golden-hued eyes finally open fully and though he yawns wide, he's coming around again, slowly but surely. Easily enough, he hears Keshah's command for Rillwhisper to be away from him, and a low growl immediately starts up in his throat. "Do not order her from me, dark one." Keshah points accusingly at Rillwhisper. "You have NO right to decide that on his behalf! Staying is the best for him. Where he is safe, and cared for. What can you offer him but hardship? Once he recovers from Recognition, he's not going to even care for you." She seems to be utterly ignoring Lonehowl, for a change. The last of the flower-daze lifts out of Rillwhisper's mind, as her entire being, at least for one powerful instant, is gripped in a surge of primal, lupine revulsion. She finds the strength to surge to her knees, deeply annoyed at the infirmity that is keeping her from looking eye to eye with this maiden of the Sun Folk. A soft growl roughens her voice, as she snaps, "You don't get it, do you?" And she flashes into sending, her thoughts coming through loud, coming through clear. ** I decide nothing his soul has not already chosen! He is a _Wolfrider!_ We hunt... we howl! We don't hide from hardship, dreaming in the flowers -- we _live_! ** To Keshah's last accusation, Rillwhisper then, startlingly, grins. ** As for who he cares for -- ask him. ** The chieftess's leaf-hued eyes, at this, glow. Lonehowl rubs at a temple as Rillwhisper's sending starts up - definitely more to deal with his fading weariness than to cope with her sendings. Her sendings are not a problem in any stretch of the imagination. Sitting up, he moves his sore shoulder and winces, then narrows those eyes of his on Keshah. Simply, evenly, he sends as well. ** Rillwhisper's words are correct. ** Of course - they're sent. ** She has a tribe to return to. I will be going with her. We will /not/ be staying in this place, hiding from all life itself! Though, if /you/ want to remain in this dead place, go right ahead. ** He stands, slowly. ** As for who I care for? ** He moves to Rillwhisper's side, wrapping his arms around her waist. ** You'll have to find another plaything, Keshah. ** Keshah's knuckles go white as she clenches her knife, the tremble of her hands spreading to her whole body. Then, with a sudden, incoherent scream of rage, she launches herself at the defenseless chieftess, to plunge the knife into her chest! Nightwing gasps! and its eyes go round with horror. The indigo Preserver flits forward, crying out shrilly, // Sunnygreen highthing! // With Lonehowl kneeling next to Rillwhisper, she's not completely defenseless. However, the senseless attack is certainly about the last thing the hunter could have expected. "No!!" he shouts, quickly shoving Rillwhisper to one side to spare her the taste of the blade. However, this only succeeds in placing him directly in the path of the lunging Keshah and her blade. It enters his chest swiftly, painfully, right at the heart, and with a sharp cry of pain, the hunter falls back under Keshah's pounce, a hand moving shakily towards his chest as he lands, a ghostly pale color coming to his face. "Aaaaiiigh!" In the first instant, Rillwhisper can only gape at Keshah's sudden launched attack, instinct clamoring in her brain to make her rise up and meet her, crying 'Challenge!' But in the next instant, she is thrust to the ground... and in the third, her attention is riveted on the sight of the hunter with the knife plunging into his chest. ** GYRR! ** she mind-screams, scrambling to get upright again, to catch him as he falls. Keshah freezes where she is as the hunter falls, staring at the knife in his chest with disbelief. Then she looks down to her own bloodstained hand, and color slowly drains from her face as she whispers, "....no." Off in the distance, howls start up and can be heard, nearly the same time Lonehowl falls. Lonehowl lands in Rillwhisper's embrace, that hand pawing weakly at the handle of the blade plunged into his chest. There's not much blood yet, with the metal still stuck in him, but some begins to trickle out his mouth. He shuts his eyes tight, a cold sweat coming on. ** Twyr..High Ones..it hurts. ** _No... no... oh, sweet Mother Moon, no...._ Cradling the hunter to her breast, frantic desperation ablaze in her white face, Rillwhisper looks up long enough to mark the location of Nightwing, aware that it had shrieked. "Bug!" she snarls raggedly, "get down here, get ready to wrap his chest...!" ** I know, Gyrr, I know, we'll get the knife out. Hold on, dear one! Stay with me...! ** Nightwing meeps! and darts down, hovering just above Rillwhisper and her fallen hunter. // Highthing? // it quavers, its eyes wide and its face pale. Keshah steps back, shaking her head slowly, repeating. "...No." She rubs her hand against her short skirt, leaving that as well bloodstained. Lonehowl's opposite hand lifts slightly towards Rillwhisper's head, reaching for a touch..just any touch at all. His eyes, wide and slowly glassing over, shift towards Nightwing, and he murmurs, "No..wrap.." He coughs up a mouthful of liquid, the deep red lifeblood running down his chin and the side of his neck. "..too..late. I won't..make it.." Apologetically, he looks back up at Rillwhisper, his beloved, his dearest. ** No..Twyr..it's already too late. She got me..in the heart. I'll always be with you, dearest Tywr.. ** He shuts his eyes slowly, the expression of pain unwavering. ** The wolves..I called them. They're..they'll be your new pack now..and you can go home.. ** Sure enough, the pack of wolves can be heard by keen ears, closing in. Keshah might well have knifed Rillwhisper in the heart; it certainly feels as if she did, as the hunter's agonized countenance emblazons itself into her being. ** No... Gyrr, ** she begins weakly, tightening the arm with which she supports him, lifting a hand to smooth loose locks of dark gold back from his brow. ** We can wrap you, long enough to get you to a healer... I can find... ** She trails off then, finding that fading in his sending ominous, a cold weight beginning to clench round her chest. Pleadingly, tinily, she sends, ** Gyrr? ** Nightwing awwws, its berry-red eyes bright and unhappy. // Poorpoor manygrowlers highthing, // it whispers sorrowfully. It looks between the two, tiny head moving back and forth slowly until it ventures faintly, // Sunnygreen highthing..? // Keshah says in a very small, tremulous voice. "I didn't mean to..." Tears streak her face, and with a sob she turns to flee the unbearable sight. Lonehowl's voice cracks at Keshah's distant words. "No..you meant..to kill her. Got me, instead.." His hand finds Rillwhisper's shoulder, clutching with all he's got left, which isn't much. ** No, please..don't wrap. It's..it won't be enough..not enough..time.. ** His thoughts and sendings continue to fade, and his hand loses its hold on the Chieftess' shoulder, falling back to his side as he shivers once, going rather still. _Don't wrap..._ Rillwhisper's heart contracts painfully at that entreaty; after the time _she_ has spent in wrapstuff, she cannot help but understand the hunter's instinctive shying away from the very idea. ** All right, ** she whispers in reply, as she clasps Lonehowl as close as she can. A little whimper escapes her as she nearly jars the knife; then, she touches her brow to his. ** I won't wrap you, ** she pledges. And then, reaching once more into that inner place within her, the shimmering pool at the center of her soul, she draws on it for all the strength she can muster... and opens herself to the hunter one last time. As the wolves might finally be seen entering the area, Lonehowl is held close to Rillwhisper as his soul visits hers one more time. A short visit. Shimmering, he gestures to her, a wave of sorts. ** Farewell, Twyr..I won't ever forget the short time we shared together. Return to your tribe..take care of and raise our cub well. I trust you, and I'll be watching you..always. ** Then, finally, Lonehowl..no, Gyrr the hunter fights to stay alive no longer, going limp in Rillwhisper's arms, dead. For a few moments, Rillwhisper stays as she is, clasping the still shape in her arms. Then, eyes still clamped shut, she slowly lifts her head, oblivious to Nightwing, oblivious to the maiden who has fled, turning her face up to the air. Only now does she let herself begin to weep, tears trickling into being around her lashes, for only now does she begin to howl. "AyooooAooOOOooooooOOoooOOOooooooaoooaooooooo....." Nightwing awws! softly, blinking its eyes rapidly as it glides up and perches on Rillwhisper's shoulder, expression sad. // Poorpoor manygrowlers highthing, // it whispers again, softly. "AaaaaaoooOOooooyyooooaaaaooohhhhooooooHHoooo...." In ones and twos, their eyes glowing dimly in the valley's gold-dusted twilight, the wolves begin to melt into view. Greyshadow and Prowlfar lead the pack, their voices the first to rise up to join with that of the she-elf, rending the eternal stillness with the combined power of their howls. Then, in ones and twos, the rest of the pack joins in. "AyoooooOooOOooooaaaaaOOooooaaaaaaoooooooo..." Honeygold flies in, coming up on Nightwings side. All animosity forgotten, the preservers watch the grieving wolfrider unhappily. And in another part of the forest, Keshah finds she cannot outrun the death of her would-be lover. As the howls of grief fill the air, she falls to the ground, sobbing and pressing her hands to her ears. "AoYooOoooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaahooooOoooOOooooo...." Seven wolves, at last, ring the chieftess and the slain hunter: the big brindled alpha, the young male who nudges his muzzle in over her unoccupied shoulder, the other males and females milling around them. Rillwhisper does not know, exactly, when she realizes that she knows all their names... Greyshadow. Prowlfar. Whitepad. Suretracker. Rootjumper. Flameruff. Trailseeker... nor does she know, exactly, when the plaintive dirge at last dies away into silence, leaving her with the unmoving weight in her arms and an aching throat. /Poorpoor manygrowlers highthing,/ whispers HoneyGold dolefully, fluttering nearby. /Poorpoor sunnygreen highthing!/ Nightwing stays perched on Rillwhisper's shoulder, eyes mournful and voice strained in its softness. // Poorpoor sunnygreen highthing, // it echoes its golden fellow, its eyes liquid. // Poorpoor highthings. // And it is, at last, Prowlfar who rouses the chieftess to action. The wolf's anxious nuzzles make her turn her head round to meet the animal's eyes. _Wolf-friend,_ she thinks in a kind of dark clarity. Then she registers the voices of the Preservers, and with a growl roiling up from her throat, she swats Nightwing off her shoulder, fixing both it and HoneyGold with a black, thunderous stare... the stare of a furious she-wolf. Nightwing aaaaiiieees! as it is swatted, thumping to the ground before lightly taking to the air. It darts away from Rillwhisper, momentarily rendered speechless as it gapes at her. Tiny multihued heads -- the rest of the Preserver fair -- peek timorously out of the leaves. Tiny Preserver voices chitter in muted terror of the feral glow in Rillwhisper's eyes, the snarl spilling forth from lips that have drawn back to reveal clenched teeth. An echoing growl rumbles forth from Prowlfar... and then from the alpha male, Greyshadow. Only when Rillwhisper is certain that the bugs will not interfere with her does she return her attention to the form of the hunter. In silence, a glimmer of tenderness briefly softening the lupine rage in her delicate face, she nuzzles at Lonehowl's ear. And then she begins to pull herself back to her knees, laboriously hauling him up with her. Greyshadow swings his wolfen regard to her... and in silence, the chieftess pulls the knife from Lonehowl's chest. In silence, the chieftess awkwardly drapes the body of her cubling's sire over the back of the wolf who had led his pack. Nightwing and Honeygold hover around, the indigo Preserver flitting in closer upon occasion, then back again as the Wolfrider chieftess goes about her way. It queries in a shaky, worried voice, // Sunnygreen highthing? // more than once, but truly doesn't seem to be expecting a reply. "What?" The single word comes out of the chieftess in the darkest, throatiest of growls, even as she pulls herself inch by inch into standing. Prowlfar slides in beside her, and her hand instinctively grips his ruff for support. Her broken leg sends out a pulse of pain in complaint; she acknowledges it, but only as a point of focus, a way to keep her mind clear, her purpose sharp. The Preserver meeps and shies away. // Highthing go 'way now? // it quavers. /Sunnygreen highthing,/ begins HoneyGold plaintively, its hands uplifted in supplication. Rillwhisper snaps her head round in that bug's direction, and snarls at it, her teeth opening and closing with an audible snap. Its courage breaking, the ostensible leader of the Preservers flees into the undergrowth. Snaps and growls from several of the rest of the wolves keep the rest of the Preservers at bay. And in the midst of the pack, a bloodied knife brandished in her hand, Rillwhisper stands there a moment. Instinct and reason, wolfsong and starsong, surge back and forth within her soul; instinct howls to track Keshah, to tear out her throat, while reason counsels almost as darkly to get out of the valley, to get away, to take what has been given her back to her Holt and her tribe. "I. Am. Going," she snarls to Nightwing, even as she turns. One step at a time, conscious of and deliberately ignoring the way her abused limb screams with every step, she forces herself to totter back along the path, heading for that tiny clearing where Fallberry had been hidden. Timidly, Nightwing follows, its hands clasped together and worry its lower lip. It makes no noise as it glides after Rillwhisper, as quiet as an autumn leaf falling from a tree, but it follows dutifully. The Preserver makes certain to stay quite a few paces behind the Wolfrider. One step, then, one dogged, painful step at a time, to do what you must do, chieftess. Her face drenched in sweat, her features seemingly turned to grim stone, Rillwhisper makes herself do what she must do. To the clearing. Use the knife to free Fallberry, slicing open the cocoon. Listen to it howl /Sunnygreen highthing?! Sunnygreen highthing allgood? Fallberry muchmuchmuch vexed!/ Growl to it, "Later. Come. NOW." Turn again. Back along the path, back to the wolves, back to Greyshadow stoically bearing the empty shell that had been Lonehowl. Never let go of the knife, for should the Preservers turn treacherous again, you must defend yourself, chieftess, defend yourself and your cub. Pull yourself, at last, onto the back of Prowlfar and never mind how your tortured leg's bones shriek at the motion.... And Nightwing still follows, but more than just a few paces behind as Fallberry is freed. As the Wolfrider hefts herself up and astride her wolf-friend's back, the Preserver stops all together, hovering midair. Its face falls and it bites back an unhappy sigh. . o O (Highthing go 'way now..) The wolf-chief may be ignoring the indigo Preserver, but Fallberry has no such compunctions. As soon as it is freed, it rounds on Nightwing, chattering at it vindictively, /Naughtybad, NASTYBAD wething! Fallberry muchmuchmuch vexed! Fallberry scratch! Fallberry st--/ "Come," growls Rillwhisper. "_Now_." Jolted out of its rant, the purple Preserver squeaks, and then obediently flits to the chieftess. Registering for the first time the expression of black wrath that darkens her visage, and registering the form of manygrowlers highthing draped across the big grey growler, the little being falls wisely silent. And, wisely, it flits after its elf-friend, but at a distance. The other five wolves silently glide into flanking their alpha and Prowlfar, paws noiseless upon the thick carpet of leaves and blossoms that covers the valley floor. Rillwhisper leans down low over Prowlfar's neck, as low as she dares, as long as they must ride through the tangled bushes... but at last, the solemn procession makes it out into the open ground, and the she-elf can straighten. She does not, not yet, her head threatening to spin as her body shrieks at her for each jolt of pain in her leg set off by Prowlfar's motion. /Sunnygreen highthing?/ pipes Fallberry, but Rillwhisper does not hear it. _I have to keep going,_ she orders herself, feeling a flash of fear as she loses something of her hold on the black, cold clarity, her only focus, her only source of strength.... Watching the departure, Nightwing continues to hover in place, looking stricken and unhappy. . o O (Manygrowlers highthing stillquietever.. Nighthair highthing runaway.. Sunnygreen highthing go 'way... Nightwing have nomore highthings?) The sigh finally escapes and it glides back a few 'steps', then vanishes into the nearby bushes, a soft cloud of flowerdust rising in its wake. Greyshadow, moving seemingly unhindered by his burden, lifts its head, ears pricking at something. A scent, perhaps, or a sound... ... or, perhaps, a brief surge of something amber-golden, wide as the night sky, strong as the roots of an ancient tree, free and unfettered and wild. Rillwhisper lifts up her head once more, her gaze turned distant, but not quite so black, not quite so dark. "Gyrr," she murmurs huskily, resolve and purpose strenghtening anew. With her good knee, she nudges Prowlfar into movement again, waving a hand to call the rest of the pack and her Preserver companion to follow her. /Sunnygreen highthing and Fallberry go now?/ asks Fallberry plaintively. /Get out of spookybad sleepyflower place?/ "We'll do better than that, bug," Rillwhisper murmurs roughly, her form swaying slightly as she strives to keep her balance on Prowlfar's back, but her gaze darkly clear. "We're going home." [Fini.]