"News of Disaster" Log Date: 2/4/00 Log Cast: Cutter, Nightfall, Rillwhisper, Wayfound (emitted by Rillwhisper), Moonshade (emitted by Cutter) Log Intro: Time has passed, since the destruction of the Willowholt. And the survivors of the destruction that wiped out that Holt have holed up in Blue Mountain, stunned by the largesse of the Gliders. For many moons they have been mourning, thinking even that their chieftess Rillwhisper had been lost, but they have discovered much to their relief that this was not the case. The Wolfbringer has been found again, wrapstuffed by her loyal Preserver Fallberry in the water-choked remains of the Holt. And upon her return to what's left of her tribe, one of the chieftess' first actions has been to try to arrange to get word of what befell her folk to Lostholt, their closest friends. Rillwhisper's daughter has grown increasingly ill at ease in Blue Mountain, for her sharp young mind has quickly grasped that with her wolf-blood she is as out of place in Blue Mountain as a treehorn in a wolf-den, for all that her gifts have gotten her amused notice even from Winnowill herself. But despite her tender years Wayfound is more than aware of the Glider tendency -- and of Winnowill's tendency in particular -- to wreak havoc upon Wolfriders, and she has become unable to bear any more time in Blue Mountain. And so when her mother arranges a hawk-ride to Lostholt, she comes with her, to bring the news of the disaster to Cutter, Nightfall, and the rest of their tribe.... ---------- Base of the Lost Holt Father Tree(#765RJ) A dense grove of grotesquely shaped trees dominated by one immense Grandfather of a tree whose age is no less great than its size. It is obvious that the old tree has survived a terrible tragedy but new growth and thick strong branches cover the worst of the scars left by the terrible blaze. Weeds and night blooming wildflowers grow in a riot of natural disorder around the trees roots, taking advantage of the NewGreen warmth. Like old friends, the gnarled trees embrace one another, their many branches entwining to form a dense canopy high above the ground. As the daystar sets the air turns chilly in the NewGreen evening. Contents: Wayfound Tailchaser Freckles Shadow Snowsplash Patience(#6936Jepq) Obvious exits: Into the Tree Around the Tree Clearing Cutter sits at the base of the father tree, idly scratching behind Rainrunner's ears with fingers that are still too long for his comfort. His stretched form is relaxed against the massive trunk and his eyes are closed, a picture of complete relaxation. Nightfall stands, balanced, on part of the roots of the tree, just having emerged. She is 'bright eyed and bushy tailed', obviously just arisen. Letting out a soft, "Ayoo" of greeting in Cutter's direction, she works her way toward him. The Lostholt wolf pack has given no warning -- for the Glider hawk that brought the chieftess of the Willowholt within walking distance did not fly over the Holt itself. But once Rillwhisper and her young daughter Wayfound venture in on foot towards the Holt itself, some of the wolves catch the scent of the incoming pair -- and soft howls begin to waft in from the surrounding terrain. Shortly thereafter they are followed by a sending, gruff, restrained, but undeniably Rillwhisper of the Willowholt: ** Lostholt! Hear me! May we enter? Are you awake in there? ** Nightfall looks up, surprise flitting across her features. She holds her greeting, however, in deference to her chief-friend. Cutter sits up at the send, rubbing at his eyes with the back of one hand, **Ayooah! We are!** he sends, curious as to why there is such a gruff tone in the send. He pushes himself to his feet and waits for the visitors to appear at the edge of the clearing, already hearing from the wolves, that there are only two and both are Wolfriders. Two Wolfriders, indeed. Acknowledgement is sent back from the trees, and shortly, she who is the chieftess of the Willowholt -- or, rather, what's left of the Willowholt -- strides silently into the clearing. Just behind her, however, is an unfamiliar youngster -- or, rather, one who was a mite of a cub the last time the chief of Lostholt saw her. Now, the she-cub named Wayfound is significantly taller, her visage grown rather more like her mother's, though she still has much growing left to do. ** My eyes see with joy, Cutter, Nightfall, ** is Rillwhisper's greeting, though there's not too much in the way of joy in her face or in her sending. There's a relief there, and honest pleasure to see both of the Lostholters, but the willow-chief's face is rather uncharacteristically solemn. Even more sober is the face of the youngster at her side, who neither speaks nor sends, but who only mutely bobs her tousled pale head in greeting. Nightfall nods, her smile of welcome encompassing chieftess and daughter, stepping forward and reaching out a friendly hand to touch Rillwhisper's shoulder, ** My hands touch with joy. ** She looks over her shoulder at Cutter, then her gaze returns to Rill's solemn expression. ** What's wrong? ** Cutter's lips draw into a welcoming smile as he catches sight of Rillwhisper but, his brows quickly draw low in a curious frown as he pads across the clearing with Rainrunner trotting along at his side. He rests a hand on the Willow-chief's shoulders as he sends, **My hands touch with joy, Rillwhisper. What brings you to LostHolt?** A small, one-sided smile curls Rillwhisper's mouth at the touch from both Nightfall's and Cutter's hands; her own come up to clasp each of the Lostholter's shoulders in return. Then she gestures to the girl with her, sending in that same gruff tone, ** This is my daughter, Wayfound. She accompanies me on our errand--** ** Greetings, chieftain Cutter and Nightfall, ** the she-cub replies. Odd, but _her_ tone is even more stoic and gruff than her mother's, her youthful face set into an unreadable mask. And Rillwhisper then blows out a breath, looking between Cutter and Nightfall with a momentary flash of pain in her green eyes. There's no way to blunt this news, and so she simply and succintly announces, ** We've come to tell Lostholt... our Holt is gone. ** Cutter's frown darkens, **Gone..? What happened?** he sends with concern twisting through the thought. **What of your tribe? Where are they?** he queries as it suddenly hits him that only two of you are here. Almost absently, he nods to Wayfound, clearly distracted by the disturbing news of a holt lost. Nightfall effectively freezes, whether like the huntress aiming at her prey or like the ravvit caught by the longtooth's gaze remains uncertain. ** The trees, the hunting... what happened? ** She nods at Cutter's words, ** Was anybody hurt? ** Rillwhisper sucks in a breath, eyes closing, and then she drops into sending. It's easier that way, and swifter. She proffers forth recent memories, of the seasons of foul weather at the Willowholt, and the last, final barrage of storms that turned the nearby marshes into muck -- and made the ground swallow the great trees. Of the loss of at least half the tribe, based on the number of those that have been found. And how, bizarrity of bizarrities, what number of the tribe are accounted for were rescued out of the destroyed terrain by... the Gliders. Carried away on hawk-back to Blue Mountain. And with acute awareness of the irony of this flavoring her thoughts, Rillwhisper concludes, ** In fact, we got here on a hawk, Wayfound and I. But we came as soon as we could. We... _I_... wanted your tribe to know. ** As he catches the images and the story behind them, Cutter's brows draw even lower on his head adding to the troubled look in his bright, blue eyes. A glance and a locksend in Nightfall's direction has her giving a brief nod and then hurrying out of the clearing to find Strongbow. After a long, pensive moment of silence, Cutter finally sends quietly, **Your tribe is welcome to stay with us if they aren't comfortable in the mountain.** One can almost hear the added, 'I know /I/ wouldn't be.' underlying his send as he fights the urge to pace the clearing like a caged wolf. Wayfound, at Cutter's offer, can be seen to have something of her stoic demeanor rattled. The she-cub has taken a step or two away from her chief-mother, slipping furtively curious glances this way and that, but when the Lostholt chieftain speaks up about the remnants of the tribe staying here the look of sudden, fervent understanding she shoots him is a palpable contrast to her former impassive mask. Rillwhisper, in the meantime, has sent a thank-you after Nightfall -- and then turned to eye her daughter for a moment, as Cutter speaks. At last, the Wolfbringer's gaze lifts up to Cutter's once again. "Some of us," she admits roughly, "are more comfortable in the Mountain than others. Truth be told... I don't know how many would come here, at your offer." Cutter crosses his arms over his chest as he purses his lips thoughtfully while he answers, **Well, it's only newgreen now, I think we could store up enough between now and winter to get ourselves and at least half of Willowholt's remaining numbers through the whitecold easily enough.** "I'll stay," says Wayfound then, speaking up for the first time. Her voice is not at all unlike her mother's, only higher-pitched with her youth. Then she adds, shoulders squared and her mouth in a small stoic line, "If Lostholt will permit it." Once again, Rillwhisper glances consideringly at her daughter, then to Cutter. "That's one. But I'll have to talk to the rest of the tribe. We've... no treeshaper left. I was hoping... some of the ones we lost might have made it here, Cutter, but I'll assume no?" Cutter glances over at Wayfound and gives her a quick smile and a nod of affirmation, "You can help build up the stores while we wait for others to come from the mountain," he tells her before turning a serious expression toward Rillwhisper and giving a light shake of his pale mane, "No, we haven't had anyone from Willowholt turn up here but, we'll keep our eyes open for any stragglers for you." he replies at a loss of what else to do. Suddenly he brightens as an idea strikes him, "There are other holts closer to yours, maybe some of them went there." he suggests quickly. A small, uncertain and grateful smile twists Wayfound's mouth, and she glances up at her mother, then. She doesn't actually speak, but her expression is rather easily readable: an unspoken request for permission to, in fact, stay at Lostholt. Rillwhisper sighs, shoving a hand up through the bangs spilling disheveledly over her brow, and then smiles tiredly to Cutter. "Wayfound shares your opinion of Blue Mountain, wolf-chief, and so do I for that matter. I have to go back for the others... but she does not. If you can shelter her for the time being... I'd appreciate it." Cutter gives a quick nod and a hopefully comforting smile to Rillwhisper as he catches her shoulder in a light grasp, "I know you would do the same for us and I'm sure that we can find places enough for everyone to have shelter." He speaks quietly then turns to walk back toward where he was sitting, silently offering a bit of comfort to the two visitors while they're here. Gratefully, Rillwhisper drops down onto the earth near Cutter's own resting place, and after a moment Wayfound tentatively follows. All at once Rillwhisper looks very tired, very troubled, and wrestling with what may well be an immense internal burden. "We thought of that already," she notes in reply to the notion of checking Holts nearer to the Willowholt. "Weirdly enough, Winnowill has quite cheerfully agreed to send messengers wherever I request. That's the whole strange thing of this, my friend... _her_, helping us." Cutter's expression becomes quite grim as his gaze fixes on his, too long, too thin, hands and replies quietly, "Her help always comes with a price, Rillwhisper." Seems the wolfchief might not be as naive as he once was... Too restless to sit still, Wayfound steps silently closer to the great tree overshadowing the clearing, glancing up at it with full eyes. It is not a willow... but still, it is a Father Tree, a tree in which elves reside, and the sight of it brings a sharp lump to the girl's throat. Then, too, she can be seen to wince to herself at Cutter's dire pronouncement. But she doesn't speak. Rillwhisper has no such reservations, though. Her green eyes dark, she studies Cutter's lanky frame, still finding it odd to her eyes with the few times she's been able to see him in his altered state. "My gut tells me this, over and over. But I can't figure out what her price would be. She's made no requests of us. Simply given us a place to sleep and food... treated us like kin, almost, with Dusk Recognized to one of her Chosen." Cutter nods as he glances up to catch the look on Wayfound's features. His gaze travels back to Rillwhisper where he meets her's with a steadfast look and sends privately, choosing to keep the young elf from having to deal with thoughts of the Black Snake's venom. Cutter locksends ** Keep a close eye on the cubs, she never wants the adults and elders.. she always wants the young ones. <> ** You locksend to Cutter, Rillwhisper, willing enough to leave her daughter to her wary explorations, drops swiftly into locksending. ** Aye. Wayfound's our only cub that's all Wolfrider... Midnight and Summit, they've both got Glider blood in them. Midnight... loves the Mountain. I doubt I'll convince him not to stay there. ** You sense in a locksend, Cutter seems to nod at this, **What of Midnight? Do you think that one can be convinced to leave before the Black Snake digs in her claws?** There is a deep sense of concern for the plight of your tribe. After all it really wasn't all that long ago his tribe was holtless and left to wander.. or was it. Of course, that was before the tribes knew of each other, before so many of the High Ones' children were revealed to be alive. Rillwhisper sighs, very softly, softly enough not to carry to Wayfound's ears. You locksend ** Midnight's... already spent years in the Mountain. His sire insisted. I don't much like it... but my gut doesn't like telling a father he can't see his cub or show his ways to him. ** to Cutter. Cutter's simple nod as his gaze falls to the ground is his only reply to that near-silent sigh and even more silent send. Cutter locksends ** I can't argue with you on that. I just don't like to see anyone, much less a cub in that snake's den. ** You locksend to Cutter, Rillwhisper, for her part, has half her tribe in the Black Snake's den... and the irony of it all is that as near as she can tell, they have not only not been harmed, they've been treated as honored guests. She allows herself to send a touch of her inner consternation to her fellow chieftain, admitting direly, ** I'm... not sure some of them will want to leave. The ones with Glider blood... and, Cutter, that's a good number of the ones we've got left. ** Cutter's jaw clenches somewhat as his eyes lift to gaze in the direction of the unseen mountain for a long moment that is rife with the tension he suddenly feels at that news. Finally, his gaze shifts back to Rillwhisper and it's filled with worry. Cutter locksends ** With that many in your tribe having Glider blood, she might be trying to do just that.. get them to stay when you leave. There's got to be a way to get them to see what she's up to or at least to keep them from trusting her completely. ** Rillwhisper wants to nod, wants to agree with the younger chief's assertion... but it's clear from the age that's settled into her eyes that the loss of her Holt has struck her badly. You locksend to Cutter, Rillwhisper sends, very quietly, ** Found out she's got some hunters with mixed blood serving her, now. I... may lose what's left of my tribe to her. If they decide that staying in a... home that isn't about to get flooded is preferable to seeking a new Holt. ** Cutter reaches over to gently clasp Rillwhisper's shoulder as he fixes a stern, serious gaze upon her face, **Not if I can help it..** he sends with a grim determination to match his expression. It seems that he might have more to say but, then a tenative send breaks into the conversation, **Rillwhisper..?** Moonshade's send proceeds the violet-clad tanner's appearance from within the father tree. Green eyes lift up to meet the purple-brown ones of the approaching elf, and a sudden exhausted relief breaks out across Rillwhisper's face. Wayfound's head swivels in Moonshade's direction as well, and the she-cub is drawn to venture a step or two nearer in realization that she has seen send-pictures of this elf before. As she does, the chieftess rises, grinning crookedly. ** Moonshade, ** she sends back. ** My eyes see with joy. ** Cutter keeps his place, choosing to let Moonshade take over from here. Knowing that there will be more time to talk later. Let Rillwhisper and Wayfound rest with friends in a safe place and then the discussions can continue. Moonshade's smile is as gentle and staid as her send as she pads over to embrace Rillwhisper in a welcoming hug, **My hands touch with joy.** she replies in the age old greeting. A moment later, she glances at Wayfound and then back to her friend, **This is your cub?** she asks as she releases Rillwhisper from her embrace, catches her hand and starts to lead her toward the father tree.. **The two of you will sleep in our den.** she adds for good measure. ** Aye, ** is the willow-chieftess' reply, ** this is my daughter. Wayfound. ** The Wolfbringer begins the girl forward, and the she-cub inclines her head gravely to Moonshade, a bit more of her youthful vulnerability -- and emotional exhaustion -- showing through her stoic mask. Quite relieved, for Moonshade's presence means she will soon be with her soul-brother, Rillwhisper concludes gratefully, ** Thank you, tanner... and thank you, too, Cutter. ** This last is directed back over her shoulder, and once the appropriate gratitude is expressed she is free to request, ** Take us to Strongbow. ** [End log.]