"Hunting for Trollkillers" Log Date: 2/8/99 Log Cast: Woodhawk, Wayfound, Trollkiller, Rillwhisper Log Intro: As is often the way with elf tribes, the birthing of cublings is as unpredictable as weather, sometimes going for turns of the seasons without new life to renew a Holt, sometimes blessing a grateful tribe with a flurry of Recognitions. And in the last few turns of the seasons, the Willowholt has most definitely enjoyed the latter state, for three of the Holt have Recognized. Dusk and Rillwhisper's cubs, Midnight and Wayfound, are already born; Joy's, by her Recognition with Vale, is on the way. It has been nearly two turns of the seasons since Rillwhisper met eyes with the wandering Wolfrider hunter Lonehowl and lost him barely a few breaths after fulfilling Recognition's call. But while little Wayfound might have been deprived of her blood sire, she has certainly not lacked for loving fathers to raise her. Or to play hunting games! ---------- Chieftess's Den(#124RAJL) This oft-crowded den seems spacious enough to perhaps hold five or six elves easily. Many pillows and furs of shades of brown, white, grey, gold, and black are scattered about its floor, some on the large pile of sleepfurs beneath a small window-hole looking out towards Sun-Goes-Down. Here and there along the walls are shaped small candle-nooks, in the shapes of leafy nests; the candles they hold are unlit at the moment, and the occasional beam of sunshine flickers in through the willow fronds outside. Along one wall, a shelf-like ledge is set into the living wood of the tree. You see 2 elves asleep here, and 3 awake. Two crawl-holes are visible here: one leading back out into the heart of the great tree, and one leading off sideways to the guest den frequently used by Rillwhisper, Woodhawk, and Trollkiller. Contents: Trollkiller(#3442PVc$g) Rillwhisper Woodhawk Comfortable fur Obvious exits: Guest Den Out Woodhawk snugs his cub and feels complete :) Wayfound crawls out of the furs and bounces silently on her fire-father's chest. Woodhawk rolls over to get Wayfound on his back, and bounces up and down. ** I'm Wayfound's wolf-friend, giddy-ap! ** Trollkiller giggles. ** Looks kind of familar. ** Wayfound does not giggle. She does, however, smile suspiciously largely, her big eyes glinting in satisfaction. Quick as a wink, she scramblescrambles up onto Woodhawk's shoulderblades and bounces up and down. Woodhawk drops his forequarters down, holding the cubling in place with his shoulders, and sniffs among the blankets. ** Hunting for....long-ears! sniffing for their trail.... ** Woodhawk picks up the tanned gray fur of a long-ears in his teeth, and shakes his head viciously from side to side. ** We caught one! Hail huntress Wayfound and her mighty wolf-friend! ** The cubling flings herself forward, curling a tiny twig of an arm around the firestarter's neck, trying to reach a hand for the fur. ** ! ** And her mother, in the meantime, poking her red-golden head in from just outside the den's entrance, smiles to herself at the sight. Woodhawk turns his head to let Wayfound catch ahold of the fur's tail, and then gently pulls back in a tug-of-war. Woodhawk catches his female lifemate's eye and grins at her around a mouthful of fur. Trollkiller smiles... hungrily at Woodhawk. Woodhawk gently releases the fur into the cub's greedy grasp, and starts nosing around in the blankets again. ** Let's hunt....Trollkillers! ** Tug! Tug tug! Tug tug tug! Wayfound LIKES this game, and she decides it requires BOTH hands. However, this little enterprise means she goes tumbling right off her fire-father's shoulder and lands, PLOOF, onto the soft furs. Her little head then comes alertly up at the new suggestion. ** ! ** Woodhawk lowers his forequarters to enable the cubling to reattain her rightful position atop his shoulders. Trollkiller yeeg! and bolts over to one corner of the den, near the entrance through to Dusk's temporary den. Woodhawk raises his head and sniffs. ** Hmm, smells like there's live Trollkiller....*very* nearby, smells....healthy.... ** Rillwhisper, just barely, stifles a giggle, while Wayfound deftly scrambles right back up onto Woodhawk. Barely two turns of the seasons old the little one might be, but she is already as fast as a treewee, and she bounces up and down again on Woodhawk's shoulders. Trollkiller stays completely still, like he's not even there. But watching. Rabbitlike. Well, as far as he can get rabbitlike, anyway. Woodhawk begins to stalk on all fours, poking first into one corner, then into another of the den. Near the den's entrance, he pauses to give Rillwhisper a good sniff. ** This one's healthy, fine prey. But it's a Wolfbringer, not a Trollkiller! ** Woodhawk licks Rillwhisper's cheek, and continues to poke among the furs. ** Dried mushroom. Nope. Tree-antlers. Nope....** Wayfound, on her elder father's back, bounces harder at the sight of her mother. The chieftess grins a large lopsided grin and nuzzles at Woodhawk's hair, and watches the hunt! Woodhawk turns his head quizzically back at his small rider. ** Where's a Trollkiller? Huntress Wayfound, do you know where there's a Trollkiller? ** A tiny hand points unerringly at her fur-father, and the cubling bounces again. Boing! Woodhawk sends, **THERE'S a Trollkiller!** Woodhawk holds his cubling firmly in place with one hand, and with the other three limbs, *pounces* on the furry elf! Woodhawk sends a triumphant, ** WE GOT HIM!! ** and utters a low, half-giggle, half-growl around a mouthful of live grey fur. Trollkiller is tossed to the ground and does a half-decent job of rolling away before he gets landed firmly upon and bitten. ** Yip! ** Wayfound scrambles off of Woodhawk in order to wrap herself tenaciously around one of Trollkiller's muscular arms, which she worries at, just like a wolf cub. Woodhawk chews indulgently on his furry lifemate, worrying at his neck as their daughter does at his arm. Trollkiller growls and flails around underneath the chewing, flopping about like a wounded... well... a wounded _something_... he doesn't much look like a ravvit, does he? Woodhawk is pretty sure he's seen grey ravvits before :) The tiniest of growls comes from somewhere in the vicinity of the cubling. Little Wayfound, in addition to being rather miniscule, also tends to be practically constantly silent; perhaps it's the excitement of the hunt that inspires that barely audible "Grrrrrrrr". She clings to her younger father's broad furry bicep, wrapping her own miniscule arms and legs solidly about it, looking like a rather odd arm ormanent. Trollkiller giggles! but suppresses it quickly, and rolls Wayfound back and forth in the furs with his arm. His other arm flails over to Woodhawk, as if to bap at him, but ends up doing something rather less offsetting. Woodhawk snuggles Trollkiller. ** We caught him, Huntress Wayfound. Now we get to keep him! ** ** Keep! ** comes a tiny piping sending, in firm agreement. [This little nugget of Wolfrider domestic bliss was never finished, but is kept for posterity! End log.]