Log Date: 2/9/99 Logger: Flashfire Log Scene: Several Lostholters visit Willowholt. ---------- [Just outside of the Willowholt.] Through the trees, on the breeze, rustling leaves, comes the scent of unfamiliar wolves and elves. And it's only growing stronger. In time, glimpses of wolf and elf can be seen, and eventually a send goes up from the group as a whole, various 'voices' peppered throughout. ** Ayoooooah, Willowholt! ** Flashfire --------- At first glance, it is clear that Flashfire isn't at all like most elves. One can see a fine layer of fur over any skin that's exposed - even his face, but nothing shows on his palms or beneath his feet. Its color is a rusty reddish-brown. The 3'4" elf's face is marked with larger-than-normal eyes of a golden yellow, surrounded by a mane of fire-red hair that darkens a bit as it trails down to partially frame the rest of his face. It is a bit darker at the roots and his hair rests somewhat wildly on his head, with no rhyme or reason as to where it falls. His pointed ears are upswept, and a thickening tuft of fur-like hair can be seen around his earlobes. His nose pokes out slightly, turning up very faintly at the tip, and when his lips part, you can notice his canines are sharp, definitely a telling sign that Flashfire is a 'throwback' of sorts, wolfen qualities stronger in him. Those attributes are clearly enhanced by his current appearance. Flashfire wears no clothing over his fur, though it is thick enough to allow him to look decent in the necessary areas. His weapons of choice are either a spear or a bow and arrows, though lately he can be seen more with the spear he's been learning to use. The once- lanky lad has now filled out, finished growing. He looks to be on the young side, though by now it's not an easy task to pinpoint his exact age. Cutter ------ There is a sense about him, of something being out of place. This elf, who stands at Glider height, carries himself like a wolfrider. Moves like a wolfrider. -Smells- like a wolfrider. Hair the color of pale plainsgrass is long, draping his shoulders and ears in thick waves, save the portion at the crown of his head, tied into a chieftain's topknot. Gestures that begin as forceful and proud, the gestures of a leader, are translated into something graceful, due to the length of his limbs; expressions that were expressive before are now sometimes elegant. His clothing now is quite clearly Glider made: midnight blue, and white, complete with feathers, and almost-liquid movement in the cloth. The tunic opens, in a v-shape, the edge of the opening once lined with feathers that have now been torn and plucked away, the sleeves full, and already torn from snagging on limbs, here and there. The trousers are tight, following the line of long -- very long -- legs. NewMoon, however, is still strapped at his side. ** ? ** comes a questioning send from a small ways south, one of those on watch having only just noticed the ones approaching. Part of the party arriving, Flashfire's on wolfback, sharing with another elf. He's not very large, and not much of an added burden to a fit wolf. with him is his bow, slung over a shoulder, a quiver of arrows strapped to his back, and a spear in hand, his weapons of choice. Of course, they're not to be used now. He blinks a bit, rather excited about visiting another holt, especially one he's not yet been to. ** Lostholt comes? ** comes a following send, upon recognition of another in the group, one who turns away to guide others closer. Moonshade. Spidersilk grins, with a bright open send. ** The same, ** she agrees. She's on foot, looking not-too-worn by the journey. -------> Silversong looked at you <------- Silversong ---------- Silversong is an elf young in appearance, her manner shy and curious, her voice sweet and pure in the music that gives her part of her name. Her soft green eyes often dart about, taking in everything around her. Her face is framed by silver hair that falls over her shoulders, a stray snip of her bright tresses often passing in front of her eyes, causing her to reach up and brush it out of the way. She wears a simple pair of deerhide leggings in a nice shade of leaf green, as well as a dark green tunic made of soft leather. Around her waist is a leather belt with an attached herbal pouch, as befits her art as a healer. Covering her feet as she walks, are a pair of small brown leather slippers. A pair of soft leather bracers, dyed a subdued green as well, complete the ensemble. She notices your gaze, and smiles briefly at you, before returning to whatever she was going. But you notice her face often go distant, lost in memory, as she thinks about past times. Spidersilk ---------- She's a flash of silvers and greys in the forests and fields. Wild silver curls tumble into electrically blue eyes, the top cut long and the back and sides shorn short. Her leathers are grey, a jumpsuit highlighted with blue, leaving shoulders and arms bared, and blue are the boots and arm-guards she wears. Two daggers hang from two thin strips of bright blue leather at her hips. She is nearly always smiling, radiating good cheer. Cutter, too, is on foot, though the big brindled Alpha, Rainrunner, travels with him, at his side. He echoes Spidersilk, sending, ** Aye. Lostholt, come to share a season with the Willowholt, if you're willing. ** ** Come then, come! And welcome! ** Following the send is another, a concept of teaching, of the way through the brambleweed wall that encircles the holt. >From afar, to Sela, Silversong, Spidersilk, Trollkiller, Flashfire, Cutter, Dusk: Rillwhisper's voice rises up from the heart of the Willowholt, clear and mellow, a howl of greeting and query. On its tail end comes a lupine harmony, first one voice, and then more, as the new pack of the Willowholt rouses in curiosity. Flashfire hops off the wolf he'd been on, to take this one on foot the rest of the way. He perks up at the howling that reaches his ears, a smile spreading. >From afar, to Sela, Silversong, Spidersilk, Flashfire, Rillwhisper, Cutter, Dusk: Trollkiller's howl follows, mixing with that of the wolfpack, but distinguishable amoungst the chorus nonetheless as his. >From afar, to Sela, Silversong, Spidersilk, Flashfire, Rillwhisper, Cutter: Dusk follows suit, not more than a moment or two after Trollkiller's howl, her own mixing in with those already in progress. Spidersilk smiles again, and moves to follow the path shown through the brambleweed. Spidersilk vanishes into the thick tangled growth towards Sun-Goes- Down. Carefully you pick your way through the tangled barrier, avoiding the itchgrass that grows thickly at its base. South Bank of the Pond This narrow, winding pathway is shielded in almost all directions save up, where the open sky allows clear illumination to mark the trail. The foliage is that of a place on the fringe between wood and marshland; tall young trees to the south and west, dominated by a massive distant trio of willows, are set off against a tangled barrier of brush and grasses that curves gently across the trail just off to the east. Thinner grasses mark the edge of a pond immediately to the north. The shadows lengthen as the Daystar slowly approaches the horizon. The Holt slowly comes to life. The bright tangles of the Waterfall begin to come out as the dimming red light of sunset fills the hot summer skies. Contents: Spidersilk Obvious exits: Holt Copse Itchgrass Circle Pond Type 'willowhelp' for Willowholt-related commands. On the other side of the itchgrass circle, Cutter breaks into a bright smile, though he lets the rest of the group precede him. All of them. He will bring up the rear, picking his way with long legs through the weeds and itchgrass. Spidersilk heads into the Willowholt. You head into the Willowholt. Clearing by the Old Willow Here in the heart of the Willowholt, the air is thick with the scents of the Newgreen -- regardless of season. Green growing things crowd the clearing, from the myriad bright 'mushrooms' hiding among tall shoots of grass, to dreamberry bushes sandwiched between the trees, to the mighty, massive 'Old Willow' that dominates everything in sight. A fallen 'log' under the Old Willow's branches provides a place to sit; a gurgling 'fountain' provides a constant song of water. Amidst the almost overwhelming weight of Newgreen scents, the air, to elfin senses, is alive with magic. 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. The shadows lengthen as the Daystar slowly approaches the horizon. The Holt slowly comes to life. The bright tangles of the Waterfall begin to come out as the dimming red light of sunset fills the hot summer skies. Contents: Spidersilk Wayfound Rillwhisper Littlebark Dusk Prowlfar Fallberry Obvious exits: Branch Old Willow Hillside Path Starwillow Copse Marsh Pond Cutter appears from the nearby pathway. Spidersilk grins, coming in, she suspects, behind Flashfire, and on foot to his wolf. As she enters the edge of the clearing, she turns to wait on her tall chieftain, smiling. >From the branch above, Trollkiller isn't sure which to boggle at more. Flashfire, or the tall - _very_ tall - Cutter lookalike. -------> Spidersilk looked at you <------- >From the branch above, Trollkiller hops down, almost slipping, as he leaps without a look. >From the branch above, Trollkiller swings down off the branch to the clearing below. Trollkiller drops down from the branch above. Flashfire doesn't have a wolf to call his own friend yet, in actuality - he rode along on one for some of the trip, however. Now, he's on foot, and he looks around with curiosity at all those of Willowholt that are gathered. It doesn't take too long, either, before Rillwhisper spots the visitors coming in, content with their entry into the itchgrass circle. "Easy, Prowlfar," she immediately adjures the big wolf who's come to her side. Grudgingly, the wolf holds back, but it's obvious that his senses are attuned to the newcomers. The willow-chief herself turns to them, beginning to grin, calling, "My eyes see with joy, my friends--" before she cuts off at the sight of the Lostholt chieftain. Rillwhisper ----------- This elfin female has earthy if also somehow ethereal look; she is wisp-slender, but with a lithe huntress's build, and hands that seem built for grasping a dagger or a bow. Her tumble of long, bright red-gold hair, caught up in a chieftain's topknot on her head, falls down in waves just past her shoulders. Huge in a pale pointed face, her deep leaf-green eyes are flecked with shimmers of grey and gold, and her capable hands sometimes show a delicate touch matched perhaps for the holes of a flute, as well. She is clad in leathers that are soft and well-worn from use and weathering: an over-tunic of dark dappled leaf-green for starters, and an under-tunic of dark brown. On her legs are a pair of simply cut brown breeches laced up the sides with green thongs, leading down to supple calf-high doeskin boots. Trollkiller ----------- Trollkiller appears to be a throwback, an elf half wolf in form. He is covered with black-edged thick grey fur from head to... yes, those are claws instead of feet. Only his hands, face, and neck show skin; as such, he needs and wears no clothing other than the occasional leather strap, to which are often attached various carry-pouches and his sword. Carrying: One Free @Wall Card Metal-shaping tools Dusk ---- Of average height, this lithely muscular elf wears no clothes, save a broad green band of soft leather that hangs over her right shoulder and splits in three further down: One band passing over her left breast, one below it, and the third curving down to her waist. The band is used for the sheer joy of decoration against the rusty fur that covers her from head to toe, streaked darker down her back and darker still around the clawed nails that grace both hands and feet, while turning paler against her belly, soft and well-groomed. Her headfur more closely resembles hair, twining down wildly, swept back from delicate, fine-tipped ears. Lupine eyes, no longer cub-round, are yellow, spring-green irises standing out against the shade. She is 48 turns old. Spidersilk looks just like she always did, as she stands a little behind Cutter, a slightly protective stance. >From the direction of the southmarsh camp comes rustling through the trees, Silversong doing her best to make it quickly within to meet those who come. Trollkiller sniffs at the scent in the breeze, and stares. ** ..._Cutter?_ ** Sela glides down from above. Sela glides down and perches in the branches of a nearby tree. Tinyhowl, feeling as if she's running late, drops down from the branches, landing with a little oof! Cutter might be the tallest elf in the clearing -- but the tiniest, her eyes going wide wide wide, immediately trots unafraid towards the strangers, her miniscule nose sniffing curiously in their direction. Wayfound lifts her green-amber gaze up to Flashfire and then to Spidersilk and then up and up and up to Cutter, while popping a thumb into her mouth. Dusk stares at the way-tall Cutter, blinkblinking at him, before her eyes shift towards the curious-looking Flashfire, fuzzy like Trollkiller and herself. Then she looks back at Cutter at her father's send. ** Cutter..? ** Cutter is the last of the group through the weeds leading into the holt. Rainrunner, the brindled Alpha of the Lostholt pack pads along at his side, head lifting to breathe unfamiliar scents, and to chuff them out again. Cutter flashes a brief smile at Spidersilk, and then stands forward. He ducks his head a little, affirmation, "Cutter," he answers. Sela's eyes widen at the sight of one even taller than she. Flashfire can't help but smile slightly at the reactions of the Willowholt as they see the Glider-height of Cutter. He's gotten used to it, but hadn't thought about how others might react. "Er, hello." he greets. Rillwhisper doesn't look exactly -- surprised, per se. She'd heard of this, but then, that _was_ over an eight of turns of the seasons ago. And seeing the reality of it, still, is something of a shock. But as her cub approaches Cutter, so does she, lifting her own green regard up to meet the gem-blue eyes of the other chieftain even as Prowlfar lurks in her wake. ** My eyes see with joy, ** she sends firmly, this time. Sela's eyes widen even further upon sighting Flashfire, and she slinks a little further back to the shielding cradle of branches. Trollkiller looks up. Quite a bit up. ** Um. ** He thinks for a second. ** Um. ** He pads over, not even realising he's being a bit rude. ** Um. ** He thinks again, and blinks. ** High ones. I'll have to be on the branch to play with your back now. Well, if you're standing, anyway. ** Flashfire seems not to notice Sela, yet... Dusk giggles at how Trollkiller stumbles with his words at first, not quite as stunned by Cutter's appearance. In truth, she doesn't remember that much of the Lostholt chieftain. She looks back towards Flashfire. You sense in a locksend, Dusk's sending is feather-light. ** Hiya..I'm Dusk. What's your name? <> ** Rillwhisper cracks a lopsided grin at Trollkiller's greeting, her gaze warming, swinging round to include all three of the newcomers. ** Spidersilk, ** she greets that one, warmly, before her attention moves to Flashfire. ** You, I don't know, cousin. But welcome, all of you, to Willowholt. Silversong spotted Moonshade, with you? ** Cutter offers Wayfound a hand, stooping a bit after he's given Rillwhisper an almost-apologetic smile. In truth, he drops to one knee, so that the cub can take one long finger, if she likes. He looks up again, then, first at Rillwhisper, and then at Trollkiller. Faint amusement flickers in his eyes. ** It's .. been awhile. My eyes see with joy, too. The visit's long overdue. ** Trollkiller blinks again and looks around at everybody. ** Um. Gosh. That wasn't very welcoming, was it? ** He looks kind of embarrassed, then flashes a flash of send at Dusk, suppressing a bit of a smile. Spidersilk smiles at Flashfire, and sends, ** This is Flashfire, a cub come to our holt not so long ago. ** A bare mite of a cubling is Wayfound, but her gaze is as firm and sure as her mother's, and she toddletrots closer to Cutter, immediately grabbing at the proferred finger, which she studies with apparent profound interest. "Oh. Flashfire --" The furred Lostholter cuts off as Spidersilk explains things for him, and he smiles lopsidedly to all assembled. "Nice to meet you all." He rests the end of his spear on the ground, shifting his bow a bit as well, eyes flickering towards Dusk. Silversong emerges from the Starwillow's copse to look out across the visitors, the expression of surprise and awe on most of the faces around, and her own gaze falls on the Gliderlike Cutter. ** Heyla. ** Sela peers over the branch at Flashfire, blue eyes wide. Tinyhowl studies Flashfire, then Cutter, the latter gathering a longer look than the former. ** Tall suits you, ** she decides. Then again, Tinyhowl's very tall. For a Wolfrider. Tinyhowl -------- Almost a half foot over four feet, Tinyhowl's long and narrow, like the arrows she carries. Silver eyes, flecked with steel blue, are steady, and silver hair grows straight, falling well past her hips, let loose to drift. Her leathers are scant, a silver-white top clinging to thin ribs and leggings that ride narrow hips. She goes barefoot in the summer weather, and a bow is slung over her shoulder, a quiver at her hip. A breathed whuffle comes from the wolf behind Rillwhisper, and the chieftess chuckles, turning to comfort the jealous beast with a few scritches. He eventually settles down, before consenting to sniff in Rainrunner's direction, finally convinced his elf-friend has this under control. You locksend to Dusk, Flashfire answers back after a moment, blinking in a sense upon seeing someone else like him. ** Hello..Dusk. Nice to meet you. <> ** Trollkiller looks over at Flashfire, too. ** Your tribe looks more like our tribe all the time. You've got taller ones _and_ furry ones, just like us. ** He thinks about that for less than a quarter of a second before smiling broadly, having decided he likes that - and likes Tinyhowl's thought as well. ** Yes. And fur suits... Flashfire? ** -------> Sela looked at you <------- -------> Trollkiller looked at you <------- To Flashfire's introduction, Rillwhisper nods affably, glancing around to clearing to mark everyone who's present. ** For Flashfire, then -- I am Rillwhisper. My mate, Trollkiller... Tinyhowl... Silversong... ** Her sending sweeps round to include all those who currently dwell within the Holt, including the tall elf-maid peering with wide eyes in Flashfire's direction. ** Sela... Dusk. ** Then, she steps to the little cubling, dropping down behind her, and giving a softer sort of smile to her. ** This one is Wayfound. My daughter. ** You sense in a locksend, Sela's send is almost startled. ** I remember you. ** Silversong smiles as she is introduced, moving over towards where Rillwhisper stands, though her eyes remain upon the taller Cutter, thinking him all-too-familiar. Puzzlement, muted, shows on her face. Dusk oopses, having forgotten to introduce herself to everyone. At least Rillwhisper covered that. ** Hiya! ** she sends, a cheerful tone evident. At the sound of her name, sent, Wayfound looks up, amber-green gaze sharp and intent. Flashfire blinks at something Rillwhisper says, attention moving elsewhere for a moment, towards the branches Sela occupies. Spidersilk laughs, kneeling to take a good look at little Wayfound. ** She reminds me of Woodgrace! Hello, Wayfound. ** Cutter looks up over the cub's head at the chieftess behind her. He seems, for one moment, as startled as the Willowholt is at his appearance. He glances briefly at Trollkiller, then back at Rillwhisper and the cubling before he stands again. "Congratulations, then, chieftess. More like us and less like us." Tinyhowl earns that sapphire gaze a moment, and he nods in acknowledgement, before looking around at other faces again. And finding Silversong. He offers, "Hello again, healer." You locksend to Sela, Flashfire's memory is foggy - he tries to remember your name, but is apparently having a difficult time in doing so. ** You..do? ** "Hello... again?" Silversong asks, looking over the tall on. "You look familiar, but I don't think we've met before." Wayfound's grasp on Cutter's finger is as light as the brush of a blown leaf, but now that she has completed her inspection of this finger, with touch and scent and sight, she drops it. She stares solemnly up at the tall chieftain, before turning that searching scrutiny around to Spidersilk. Trollkiller snickers at something - Dusk must have sent it, his glance tossed in her direction. ** Not at all. ** Spidersilk grins broadly, and offers a finger to Wayfound as well. "Hello," she repeats solemnly. Dusk glances sidelong towards Flashfire for a brief moment, then looks back to Trollkiller, grinning back at him. Rillwhisper says "How tall, foot and inch wise, would you say you are now, Cutter?" -------> Tinyhowl looked at you <------- -------> Dusk looked at you <------- Cutter's prolly nigh on to 6 foot. Rillwhisper says "Gracious, two feet on Rill. :)" Flashfire says "And I'm a little past Cuttah's waist ;)" Tinyhowl says "you must be *awfully* fragile.". Silvie says "So about the same height as an adult glider. :) A full foot on Silvie." Cutter is. Easily broken. Rillwhisper says "You need some muscle mass, wolf-chief. :)" Trollkiller sends, ** And a foot and a half, almost, on Trollkiller. ** Cutter says "Talk to Winny. :)" Flashfire says "Weight-Gain 4000. Beefcake. BEEFCAKE!" Rillwhisper grins. Rillwhisper rotfl to Flashfire. Dusk laughs. Sela just continues to watch silently from the branch. Tinyhowl locksends ** <> Are you Trollkiller's blood? ** Wayfound trots to Spidersilk, apparently just as fascinated by her as she had been by Cutter. Her little nose twitches again, and Spidersilk's proffered digit receives the same thorough inspection that the chieftain's had done. Rillwhisper, with that, rises to her feet, smiling her slightly crooked grin. "So, my friends," she says to the clearing at large, though directed primarily to the newcomers, "are you hungry? Thirsty?" You locksend to Tinyhowl, Flashfire is momentarily confused by the question, not sure of how to answer. ** Of his blood? ** Spidersilk laughs, scooping Wayfound up -- if her mother doesn't mind -- and spinning the child around. ** It's been a long time since I've seen a cub this young. Hello, precious. ** Cutter ducks his head again, a gesture not entirely conscious if the manner in which it's executed is any indication. "We've met, Silversong." And on the heels of those words, the Glider-tall Wolfrider sends a memory-image, of the elf he once was. Shorter. Sturdier. Cutter. Flashfire gets the idea that compared to the others, he's probably the shortest one 'round here. Oh, he's used to it because of the size difference between Cutter and himself, but still. Tall elves. And lots of them. It's a little different. He smiles slightly towards the two other furred elves. Trollkiller sends openly ** Food! Food is good. ** If a jaw could hit the ground in surprise and shock, if it could make a sound, Silvie's would make that sound. ** Cutter!? ** Familiarity, both in appearance and sending, brought to realization. Somehow, the concept of food and drink escape her at the moment... Rillwhisper, indeed, does not appear to mind, though she does flash Spidersilk a glance just to keep tabs on what her child's getting herself into. Wayfound, in the meantime, remains quite silent as she is spun, but a big smile abruptly blossoms across her face, and she waves her feet around in the air. You locksend, to Trollkiller, Dusk: Flashfire's send is somewhat on the curious side. ** I've never met anyone else who looked like me. Not really.. ** Trollkiller hops into the tree, briefly, and returns immediately with big leather sacks full of jerky. ** Treehorn in this sack, ravvit in the other. Eat! ** Dusk yeah!s at Trollkiller's good idea, and ooohs upon seeing what he comes out with. ** Jerky! ** Trollkiller sends openly ** It's not exactly fresh kill, but it's tasty in its own way. ** Trollkiller is distracted between two elves, both of which he finds inordinately interesting; he glances between the two, Cutter, and Flashfire. ** Um. ** Flashfire blinks at the surprise in Silversong's sending upon actually realizing that Cutter is, indeed, Cutter. His chief and father-by-adoption has always been tall, to him. Huh. Trollkiller locksends, to Flashfire, Dusk: ** We've not seen anyone like us outside our tribe before, either. You've got lovely teeth, by the way. ** "Ekuar's fountain, of course, never runs dry." Rillwhisper smiles again, gesturing to the bubbling fountain at the side of the clearing. "And there are mushrooms for eating all over the Holt, if you look for the brown ones and not the bright ones. We can gather some, if you all would like. Sit, rest yourselves! The ride must have been long." You sense in a locksend to Trollkiller, Flashfire: Dusk grins to both her father and the smallish furry elf. ** Father's right. And I think you look nice, too. <> ** You locksend, to Trollkiller, Dusk: Flashfire is, at first, caught a bit off-guard at the compliments, but he quickly recovers. ** Oh, ah. Thanks. I think it's neat to meet others like me. I thought I was the only one, after Timmorn himself. ** You sense in a locksend, Tinyhowl nods. ** His son? Or cousin? I've never seen furry elves except him and Dusk. ** Cutter says to Rillwhisper first, with a returned smile, "We should have sent ahead earlier. Still. Thanks for having us, chieftess. If you'll allow it, we'll hunt with you awhile?" His gaze slants back toward Silversong without waiting for the answer, and he tilts his head a little to one side. You locksend ** (Understanding registers.) Ohhh. Oh. No. I'm neither..actually, there's a story behind it. Maybe later, I could explain. When things are calmer. ** to Tinyhowl. Spidersilk grins, setting Wayfound back down, making sure the child doesn't fall over from dizziness. Trollkiller hops over to Cutter and nuzzles his ... chest, standing up on his forepads, all stretchy. ** Hi. That would be nice. ** Flashfire's nose sniffs a bit at the smell of the jerky Trollkiller brought out, considering sampling some of it although he's used to the raw stuff. He pauses to observe Trollkiller and Cutter, head tilting to one side. Surprise gives way to amusement as Trollkiller acts like... well, Trollkiller, and Silviersong gains a hesitant smile. She starts moving over towards Cutter, looking up at him. Rillwhisper glances briefly at Spidersilk, her eyes warming with apparent pride, before she returns her attention to Cutter. If she's shocked or even mildly surprised that Cutter's got two more feet to his height than when she last saw him, it doesn't show in her face; the Willowholt chieftess, it would seem, has learned how to be almost as unflappable as Strongbow. "Lostholt has always been welcome to den with us," she says affectionately. Dusk grins at her father's straightforwardness, something she hasn't quite adopted just yet. But she's getting there. As for her, she starts over towards Flashfire. Oh! First, she has to get a few strips of the yummy jerky. Trollkiller glances over to Flashfire. ** I know, I know. But it's good, in its own way. I learned some of it from Sweetleaf. Try it. ** Spidersilk lifts her head from watching Wayfound to grin at Rill. Put down, Wayfound looks up and up at Spidersilk in apparent satisfaction, and then promptly turns her attention to investigating Rainrunner. This earns her the protective attention of Prowlfar, who whurfs over the top of her pale-haired head. Tinyhowl locksends ** <> I like stories. ** Sela hesitantly glides down to linger more or less at the edge of the group of gathered elves. She looks faintly uncomfortable on the ground, taking mincing little steps as she approaches. Sela ---- Standing at nearly five feet tall, Sela moves with silent grace. Her hair is the color of red gold, and is pulled back in a number of small braids wrapped around her head and pinned with a golden clasp. Quick eyes have a slightly feral look to their pale blue depths, and are the only obvious indication that this elf is not a Glider whole. She wears close-fitting leathers in soft blues and greys with a pale skirt and long sleeves. The open v-neck is laced, and the dangling ends of the laces are adorned with soft downfeathers which dance as she moves or glides. She has a healthy glow about her which is rare among gliders, but she has the slender gracefulness of the elder tribe. Trollkiller looks appreciatively along Flashfire's back, since it's over that way. Mmm. Spidersilk tilts her head curiously at Sela, and inclines her head in greeting. You locksend to Tinyhowl, Flashfire smiles slightly. The story isn't quite as good a story as some others might be, but. ** Aye, well. Maybe it'll be told while we're here. ** Cutter is nuzzled, and, grinning, he slides one hand's fingers into Trollkiller's fur and gives him a few scritches, before withdrawing his hand with a wink. The Lostholt chieftain, it seems, hardly knows which way to look or who to answer, but something draws sharp attention toward Spidersilk. Pale eyebrows quirk upward, then settle again as his attention shifts to Wayfound a moment. Laughter bubbles out of his throat, and Cutter shakes his head a bit. Dusk catches that look in her father's eyes and smiles at him, closing the gap to the Lostholter colored like her, with jerky in hand. Spidersilk laughs aloud, and goes to try some jerky, grinning. Rainrunner stays never farther than a wolf-legged pace or two from the LostHolt chieftain. Certainly he's no threat to Wayfound, when she comes to investigate. Still, Prowlfar's warning is heeded. This is, after all, his territory. Pride managed, Rainrunner both lowers his head and turns it a little to show throat. No threat. Flashfire blinkblinks at Cutter and Trollkiller, unable to hide something of a smile that forms. His attention's grabbed such that he jumps slightly when Dusk comes up to him. "Oh! Um. Hiya, Dusk." He sniffs again at the jerky. Tinyhowl locksends ** I make songs, sometimes, you see. Maybe your story would be a good song. ** Trollkiller cocks his head to one side and smiles as his headfur gets ruffled. He realises that he's ignored Spidersilk, and sends a belated greeting at her, apologising - before looking back at Cutter. ** So if you'll get some food and eat and sit down, I'll do that thing with your back you like. ** The daughter of the Willowholt chieftess might be small enough that any of the wolves in the clearing might accidentally inhale her if they sneezed too hard, but she is also apparently entirely unafraid of wolves. She immediately thrusts forth a miniscule hand to investigate the texture and scritchiness of Rainrunner's pelt, and follows this up with a good strong whiff of his scent. You locksend to Tinyhowl, Flashfire seems to be a bit distracted, predictably. ** Songs..? Oh! Right, songs. I see. Maybe. I don't know if mine would be or not. We could see. ** Spidersilk laughs again, nodding a hello at Trollkiller. Tinyhowl locksends ** <> ** Sela smiles shyly to Spidersilk after finishing her examination of Flashfire. Silversong gives a nod towards Cutter, stepping forward to gently take the hand of the much-attended Lostholt chieftain. ** It's good to see you again, Cutter. No matter what you look like, a friend is within. ** Dusk glances towards Cutter and Trollkiller, shaking her head in amusement at something before offering Flashfire a strip of jerky. After that, she reaches to stroke along an arm, smiling friendly-like at him. "Feels nice." Keeping both her wolf-friend and her cub under periodic watch, Rillwhisper lets Trollkiller command the up close and physical greeting of the visiting chief, hanging back just enough to give Silversong room to clasp his hand. Her appreciation of the visitors nonetheless lightens and brightens her eyes, and her expression is easy and relaxed. At ease, she claims a patch of leaf-strewn grasses as her seat, not far from Cutter and Trollkiller. Cutter curls long fingers around Silversong's hand, holding it a moment before he lets her go. "It's good to be seen," is the answer, then Trollkiller earns another grin, and he asks, "How can I pass up an invitation like that, mm?" Rainrunner's coat is still a little patchy in places, coarser coat of fur from cooler seasons not entirely scratched out yet, but for the most part, it is soft, clean, and smells entirely unlike anything Willowholt wolves might smell like -- save the base underlying odor or wolf itself. He cocks a curious ear at the cub, and keeps an eye on Willowholt's alpha. Sela's eyes settle back on Flashfire. As she becomes aware that he really doesn't remember her, she seems to relax somewhat. Silversong grins at Trollkiller, slipping away as she moves over towards the fountain, to sit at its edge. Trollkiller hops around behind Cutter, tosses the chieftain's ponytail over his vic, er, playtoy, er, subject's shoulder, and starts at the neck with a slightly more tentative version of the rub pattern that almost made Cutter fall off the log last time. Things are bigger now, he'll have to feel things out carefully at first. Aye, this would be a wolf. This is apparently to the satisfaction of Wayfound, who conducts a thorough and systematic inspection of every portion of Rainrunner's fur she can reach with her wee fingers. Given her size, this is a task that takes the cubling quite some time, but this doesn't appear to bother her; indeed, her infant features are set in firm determination beyond her current span of turns. Trollkiller grins over at Wayfound, who seems to be figuring out wolf-or-elf more quickly than he himself did. Flashfire smiles just a tad awkwardly at Dusk, not too shy, but just a little. He samples the jerky and thinks it'd be an acquired taste, but it's not too bad. Smiling back at Dusk, he admits, "That does feel nice." Since the question of food has been addressed, Rillwhisper now contents herself with conversation. "Will there be more of you coming?" she inquires of the visitors. Dusk grins openly at Flashfire, and convinces him to sit down on a log and take a load off. Noticing the look on his face, she notes, "Not everybody likes father's jerky. But I think it's great. Maybe you will, too." "Ember's chosen to stay at the holt," Silk volunteers. "Once she returned, and settled, she's seemed reluctant to leave again." "Which is fine," Cutter's quick to say, though his head is bent forward as Trollkiller works at his neck. "She belongs there, in the holt. There were a few more who said they might come, chieftess, but they left days behind us if they're coming at all." Trollkiller nods at Cutter's words. He's grown ... somewhat less fond of travel. Tho' sometimes, at least, it's still worth it to see the right others. Flashfire sits down dutifully at Dusk's coaxing, but not before he works himself out of his bow and quiver strapped across his chest. He sets his spear down, as well, nodding at Dusk's explanation of the jerky. "It's not really bad. It's just..different." As for him, he can't help but watch Trollkiller and Cutter just a tad. To Dusk and Flashfire, Rillwhisper observes cordially, "There are a few odd things to eat around here, but that's mostly due to the odd things that still grow here with what's left of my brother's magic." As Cutter speaks up, she turns her gaze back around to him, agreeing, "Your Holt should stay watched, of course. But we'll keep a look out for others of your tribe, coming in." Trollkiller looks up. ** Oh, right. The mushrooms. ** Dusk sits next to Flashfire, finding him much more appealing than a certain Glider she's Recognized. Nodding at her chieftess' explanation, she promises, "I'll show Flashfire what's okay to eat and what to stay away from." For the moment, she skitches his back, using clawtips where appropriate. Trollkiller leans forward and nuzzles the back of Cutter's neck, briefly, as his hands work down that long length of backmuscle, growing more confident as he finds that things aren't really _different_, just _bigger_. That's easy to handle. Spidersilk looks up from where she's seated herself, to smile at Cutter. Sela watches Flashfire and Dusk with widening eyes and slips back into the shadows. Luminous eyes are the clearest indication that she is still there. Trollkiller sends, ** The important thing _not_ to eat are the red-and-black mushrooms. They're easy to spot and don't grow as thickly as they used to - but don't eat them. ** Now sitting on her rump beside Rainrunner, under Prowlfar's baleful eye, Wayfound shifts the scope of her investigation from the top of the stranger wolf's head around down to his throat. Scritch scritch scritch scritch scritch. Not a sound does the cubling make, and her green-amber gaze is full of purpose. Flashfire clears his throat at something, listening attentively to Rillwhisper, then Dusk and Trollkiller as they talk about the mushrooms and such. ** I..don't really have much of a taste for mushrooms anyway. ** He oohs quietly at the..skitching. Cutter turns his head over his shoulder a little, amused, to ask, "What happens if you eat the red-and-blacks?" Silversong chuckles very softly. "Rillwhisper's brother was very creative in the ways he asked the plants here to grow." Tinyhowl, feeling as though she's greeted everyone, waves a little goodbye, and makes her way back into the tree. Trollkiller looks up at Sela, curiously, for a bit, before looking back down (ish) to Cutter. ** Your magic stops. Can't even send. You have to relearn how. It's a plague cure. Better than dying, but not much. ** Rillwhisper smiles a slightly more crooked smile. "Those are the magic-killing shrooms Sweetleaf had to make to stop an illness that struck us. While I was last at your Holt, as I recall. It's been some time." Tinyhowl stops a moment, to smile at Trollkiller. Dusk frowns slightly at the explanation of the red-and-blacks, and pokes Flashfire in the ribs. "See, you want to stay away from those." Tinyhowl shivers lightly, remembering the plague, and then nods a little at Trollkiller before climbing up into the trees. Flashfire erps at the poke, batting slightly at Dusk's hand before rubbing his side, feigning a sore spot. "Can't even send?" He echoes Trollkiller. "I..think I'll stay far away from those." Tinyhowl pushes aside the willow fronds and steps into the tree. Rainrunner helpfully tilts his head to allow little fingers to get through his fur. After all, scritching and investigation is not a bad thing. He yawns, once, but that's all. Cutter says, "High Ones, was it that long ago? We'll remember, and stay away from them." Up in the branches of the old willow, a curious head pokes out, black hair and blue eyes visible. The little cub sends the semblance of a greeting to those below, a tired one at that. It seems Midnight's awake. Trollkiller smiles after Tinyhowl, who, he thinks, will need a bit of time to adjust to so many new faces. Trollkiller beams up at Midnight. ** Cub! ** Sela steps out of the shadows just long enough to nod a shy little greeting to the visitors before she skitters into the air like a waterbug in a pond. "Aye, cousin," comes Rillwhisper's reply, for Flashfire. "The sickness killed Tinyhowl's mother... and my brother. But my brother made the red-and-blacks as he died, so no one else would." For a moment, she's visibly solemn, her eyes a trifle distant; at the same time, Wayfound abruptly looks up, staring straight at her mother. Then Rillwhisper shakes off the mood that seems to grip her, saying, "It's why, too, the seasons get a bit strange here these days. Don't be surprised if you find a tree that thinks it's the Deathsleep in the middle of summer, or blooming green in the middle of the Whitecold, here." -------> Rillwhisper looked at you <------- Sela flies up. Sela has left. Dusk oh!s at the sending from her son, and in spite of herself, she springs up and away from Flashfire, scampering over to fetch little Midnight. Coming back down with the tyke in her arms, she explains, ** Lostholt..this is my son, Midnight. He's.. <> ..almost a full hand, now. ** Wayfound's sober regard swings round to take in the arrival of the older cub, now. Cutter's eyes slide shut for a moment, not in thought or with a frown, but rather pleasedly. A sigh escapes him as he sags a bit beneath Trollkiller's touch. "We have a few things to catch up on, your tribe and ours." Rillwhisper's mood lifts a bit further as Midnight is fetched, and then at last she looks back to Cutter. "Aye," she says dryly, but her eyes are twinkling now. "Where should we start?" Spidersilk looks up, startled, and can't help laughing. "My chief, you understate." Trollkiller's hands work along Cutter's flanks, rubbing deeper into thick muscles stretched along... rather thinner than he'd expect bones. He breathes into Cutter's chieflock, nuzzling the back of Cutter's head warmly. Flashfire stiffens slightly before settling on the log again, blinking towards Dusk and Midnight, then back to Cutter at the mention of catching up on things. He's right there, for sure. Then he chews faintly at his lower lip, watching Trollkiller in action. Dusk is still all smiles as she comes back to the others with Midnight, who grins down at Wayfound. Ooh, playmate. He squirms in Dusk's arms, and declares, "Wanna play!" Dusk giggles and complies, letting him down to associate with Rillwhisper's daughter. Cutter's eyes skim open again, and he grins first at Spidersilk, and then at Rillwhisper. "At the beginning? Or the middle, or . . . wherever the story wants to be told. One will probably remind one tribe or the other of another one." Rillwhisper chuckles, low and throatily. "Well, for starters -- we've a few more cubs. Aside from these two" -- she gestures a leanly muscled hand at the small elves -- "Joy is with cub, too, and brought her Recognized home with her. We'll have a third agemate for Midnight and Wayfound soon." Spidersilk's eyebrows crinkle upwards in a silver line. "We're all doing something wrong," she informs Cutter, grinning. The willow-chief blows out a slightly dry, slightly wry breath. "Well, we all had to leave the Holt to get the Recognitions, so who knows -- you could always Recognize one of us while you're here." Flashfire eyes Wayfound and Midnight for a moment, trying to remember the last time someone in Lostholt had a cub. "Well..I wasn't born in Lostholt, but I'm still the youngest there, I think." And he's really not all that young any more, either. Over five hands, now. Wayfound hops silently to her feet, staring steadily at Midnight. Cutter says ". . . Nooooo.. that would be bad. Really. Honest. You believe me." Spidersilk says "Oooh. Don't tempt me, Rill. :)" Midnight stares right back at Wayfound, blue eyes critical. Then he grins and bumps Wayfound on the shoulder with a small hand. Rillwhisper looks guileless. Cutter coughs. :) Dusk can't quite stifle a giggle at Midnight and Wayfound. Spidersilk shoots a positively hungry grin at Rillwhisper. "Maybe I should go meet eyes with your Woodhawk." Trollkiller grins at Spidersilk. ** Mmmmm. I suspect he'd like that. ** Cutter laughs, and leans back, entrusting Trollkiller with a little more of his slight weight. Relaxing? Cutter? It has been some time since that's happened. "Your tribe and mine need to be closer in blood, you think, chieftess?" Rillwhisper's daughter promptly pokes Midnight back, though she has to stand on her tiptoes to do it. Spidersilk turns her grin to Trollkiller, eyes sparkling. ** Would he, now. ** The sight of Cutter relaxing is enough to give Flashfire reason to stare even more at his chief and 'father,' and Trollkiller. Wow. He's not sure he's /ever/ seen Cutter that relaxed. Rillwhisper's laugh is never loud, but her slim frame subtly vibrates with its force. "You'll have to take that up with the firestarter when he gets in from his hunt." She nods her red-golden head at Flashfire, in acknowledgement of his stated age. Spidersilk locksends ** <> Don't make him self-conscious. ** Trollkiller brushes his fingertips along Cutter's chest and abdomen, feather-light, sliding easily under Cutter's vest. ** Indeed. He likes cubs around even more than I do. You can't separate him from Wayfound and Midnight, except to hunt. And play with us. ** Little Midnight buhs at Wayfound, and plops down on the ground, eyeing her. Silversong giggles softly at that. ** And believe me, I've tried. ** You locksend to Spidersilk, Flashfire is a bit lost at first. ** Huh..? ** Wayfound promptly pops a thumb into her mouth, and drops back to standing firmly upon her tiny feet, ambergreen gaze steadily resting upon the older child. You sense Spidersilk's send is patient. ** Cutter. Don't stare at him so. I haven't seen him this relaxed since Winnowill changed him. Maybe before. ** Trollkiller locksends ** I'm _very_ good at this. And I'd be happy to give you a turn, too. All us furred types are direct relations, here - I'd love to see what it's like from the touching side... ** You locksend ** <> Oh! Right..I didn't even realize...yeah. I'll try not to. ** to Spidersilk. Midnight simply grins at Wayfound, and reaches towards that thumb in her mouth. Dusk stays a few steps from the two little cubs, one eye on them, the other shifting around the clearing. The younger cubling promptly skitters sideways a few steps, watching Midnight all the while. Prowlfar whurfles, ears flicking up. You locksend to Trollkiller, Flashfire is caught slightly off-guard by the invite, not really expecting it. ** Hmm..? Oh..ah, sure. Later, maybe.. ** Yep, he didn't expect someone to be offering. Spidersilk rolls over lazily onto her tummy, watching the cubs and smiling. Midnight fehs, scooting closer to Wayfound again. "Stay." he insists. Wayfound, to this, stands still. The thumb is still solidly rooted in her mouth, but one might swear her gaze turns inquiring over her balled hand. You sense in a locksend, Trollkiller senses a bit of aback, and sends warm reassurances. It's a happy, friendly_offer. Not even remotely predatory. Flashfire peels his eyes away from Cutter after becoming more conscious that he'd been watching. Wouldn't want to discomfort anyone by staring. There. That's better, Midnight thinks. He reaches out towards Wayfound again and tries patting her head softly. You sense in a locksend, Cutter has noticed, though, and so he sends, lazily amused, ** You'll be all right with them. ** You locksend to Trollkiller, Flashfire seems open to the idea, after the reassurance. ** Sure..once couldn't hurt, right? <> ** Might be more than once, who knows? You locksend to Cutter, Flashfire answers somewhat meekly. ** Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. I just noticed you look like you're really enjoying that..and him. <> ** It's a tiny head, is Wayfound's, crowned with delicate pale hair that makes her look not unlike a dandelion in the middle of autumn. She doesn't appear to mind being patted, though her little nose crinkles curiously as she sniffs at the other cub. You sense in a locksend, Cutter chuckles. ** Long story. Old friends. Aye, he's .. comfortable. ** Trollkiller smiles over at Flashfire for a moment, looking up from Cutter's nicely relaxed form - then looks back down, and brushes his lips across Cutter's forehead, which seems like a good idea to try. You locksend to Cutter, Flashfire can tell, indeed. ** Yeah. It looks like it. And everyone's really friendly here, too. It's nice. ** Trollkiller locksends ** I like making people feel good. It's ... my skill. ** Midnight grins in a friendly sort of way at Wayfound, before letting her be as his attention shifts to look around at the others. Wayfound, consideringly, plops down in the grass by Midnight, thumb solidly in place. You locksend to Trollkiller, Flashfire's send is a smile of sorts, and acknowledgement. ['Round this time, everyone decided some real-life rest was in order, so things were summed up in a closing pose.] After many hours of talk through the short summer night, the visitors and Willowholters eventually wander off to their various hunts and dens. Cutter in particular is all but _carried_ off by Trollkiller - but he doesn't seem to mind, particularly - towards Trollkiller, Woodhawk, and Rillwhisper's den. He _still_ seems remarkably relaxed. Trollkiller just looks pleased.