Trollkiller leads Woodhawk, Rainsong, Sela, Midnight, and Wayfound on another search sweep of the former Willowholt territories, eventually finding Rillwhisper, wrapstuffed. Woodhawk, Rainsong, and Sela are away from the camera for the most part, but are spoofed briefly for sake of proper characterisation. Players present: Trollkiller, Rillwhisper, Midnight. Characters present: Trollkiller, Rillwhisper, Midnight, Woodhawk, Rainsong, Sela, Savith (spoofed very briefly with permission from Winnowill's player). Logged 2 January 2000. ----- begin log ----- South Marsh(#10710RJ) This area looks more or less like what might have happened if a gigantic being took up a forest in one hand, a swamp in the other, and threw them violently together. Twisted tiny trees poke up here and there out of a muddy expanse of earth only sparsely covered by drenched and browned grasses; here and there, a tree of some size might still be spotted, leaning at a precarious angle as if only half-solidly placed within the marshy earth. Obvious exits: North East Midnight has arrived. Wayfound has arrived. Trollkiller waves to Savith as he flies off aboard their great bird, Woodhawk and Rainfire still astride to be dropped off elsewhere, Sela flying on her own to yet another section of wrecked swamp. ** See you at dawn - thank you again for the ride... ** Aboard the hawk, Savith nods, sends a quick acknowledgement, and hurries on. Midnight perches precariously on a leaning tree-trunk, having glided down to it rather than risk getting his feet wet. Seems like he won't have much choice about that, though. Looking around in consternation, he sees nothing but... wet. Everywhere. His sending is subdued. ** Are you certain this is the right place? I don't recognize anything. ** A good number of searches have been flown over this territory already -- but this one is different. This one is including Midnight, and it is also including Wayfound, who's ridden behind her Fur-father on Savith's great hawk and has worn ever since the liftoff from the Mountain an expression of grim determination. The girl hasn't uttered a word, though, unless directly addressed. Perhaps it has to do with the absence of her seemingly constant shadow Calmwind, or perhaps it simply has to do with a burning desire to conduct herself like an adult on this search she's been allowed to join. Woodhawk has been reluctant to leave her side, but she's firmly sent to her Fire- father to convince him she'll be fine in Midnight and Trollkiller's company. Now, the she-cub casts a glance as dismayed as Midnight's around the vicinity, swallowing hard at what she sees. Trollkiller looks about. ** Yes. It's all like this now. ** There's pain in his send, a hurt still fresh and raw. ** I've... not gotten used to it yet. The Old Willow was... ** he thinks for a moment, then points, ** That way. ** He bites his lower lip, and pauses for a moment, collecting himself. ** Okay. It's still fairly dangerous and somewhat unstable around here - it's easy to step into a sinkhole and drop. Keep each other within sight at all times. If you find anything of interest, send, and we'll converge upon you to help move things around as needed. You two head that way - ** - he points towards sun-goes-down - ** and I'll move hubward a bit, then head towards sundown as well. ** Trollkiller looks in the air at a send. ** Woodhawk and Rainfire are on the ground. ** Midnight eyes Wayfound, frowning. Looks to Trollkiller, visibly framing a protest. But what he says is. "All right. And I'm not worried about sinkholes. Maybe I'd better check out the most unstable places." Trollkiller sends to Woodhawk and Rainfire, ** Good luck. I love you both. We'll find something today, I'm sure of it. ** Just as he's been sure every day we've searched, and been proven wrong, every day we've searched. ** Yes, Fur-father, ** is Wayfound's only reply to Trollkiller's instructions. She sucks in a breath, squares her shoulders, and peers sidelong at her dark-haired young tribesmate as she catches his frown. But her young face is as unreadable as it ever is, save for that liquid glimmer lurking somewhere in those ambergreen eyes. To Midnight's suggestion, she only nods. It's logical, after all. Midnight can float. Trollkiller locksends to Midnight, Trollkiller sends, ** I want her with you _because_ you can float. ** The reasons should be obvious. Midnight locksends ** ... Yes, Trollkiller. Don't worry, I'll look after her. ** Trollkiller sends, ** Okay, then. Let's go. ** With that, he trudges hubward, through the water, testing in front of his path with a stick. It's getting colder, but he's without his cape - waterlogged capes just wear you out more quickly, and there's a lot of searching to do. He looks back at Midnight and Wayfound, as they prepare. He only goes about 20 paces hubward - about the distance across the next surviving clump of trees - before turning towards sun-goes-down. Trollkiller locksends to Midnight, Trollkiller sends, ** Are you upset because you think she's too young? Or... are you upset with her? ** Sending, not being limited by this trivial distance, can continue unimpeded. Plus, it's good to keep in contact. Midnight hesitates, then slips down from the tree, landing in ankle-deep water with an expression of disgust. He looks towards sun-goes-down, gnawing his lower lip as he tries to pick out a suitable path. ** Let's go, Wayfound. You just stay right behind me, and keep your eyes open. ** Trollkiller senses in a locksend, Midnight sends somewhat evasively. ** She's just a cub. I don't think she can be all that much help if, you know, something goes wrong. We'd have to help her and stuff. ** He's not much good at subterfuge, though, and there's definitely a sense of... something. Envy? She _had_ understood Trollkiller's instructions; Midnight didn't need to reiterate them. For a moment, the chieftain's daughter grimaces... but more or less manages to control the expression, shoving the flare of annoyance down within her rather than allowing herself to get angry at the youth. _I'm not here to fight with him,_ Wayfound tells herself sternly. _I'm here to find Mother._ ** Aye, ** she sends, soft and gruff and extremely terse. And nothing else. Trollkiller locksends to Midnight, Trollkiller considers all that, and starts with the obvious. ** She's... older than people tend to think. And more capable. But because she speaks so oddly... She'll be fine. And she needs to be out here doing something, just like you, just like me, just like all of us. ** There's silence for a moment, but a thoughtful one... ** Is... there something else? ** Trollkiller trudges forward, sniffing at the air, sniffing at the water, peering under tree branches and sniffing there, looking for - well, anything. The trail, if there is one, is cold, and wet, and washed out. At least the child moon is full, so it's bright enough... Midnight's clothing catches at a jagged branch, and he tugs it loose with an annoyed glower. Pausing thoughtfully, he then pulls the branch up from the muddy ground, and hefts it in his hand. Well enough. "Let's check that thicket over there. Something might have caught in it." He glances briefly back over his shoulder. There's one thing that the sojourn in Blue Mountain has given Wayfound -- a chance to get warm and dry. Out here in the mud and the wet, she's reminded all over again of the two seasons of misery that life had been in the Willowholt before the final flood had come, and the reminder brings up a sharp lump within her throat. But this she-cub has learned much in the last seven turns of the seasons or so about being stoic, being silent, being strong. She makes no complaints about the muck through which she must trudge, dismissing the moisture soaking through the leather of her boots as beneath her consideration. Instead she focuses every fiber of her being upon scrutinizing everything in sight for some sign of something familiar. Tumbled green growing shapes of half- drowned trees have turned the landscape into something out of a bad dream; smells are tumbled too, with the occasional hint of a familiar scent of willow or maple interspersed among the overwhelming odor of damp, marshy earth. And there's something else, too, something that tugs at her beyond the evidence of her five senses. ** The... place itches, ** she murmur-sends, not expecting Midnight to be interested in the observation, yet feeling honor-bound to make it. ** Like... when Acorn or Fhen shaped something. ** Trollkiller senses in a locksend, Midnight is silent for a while. Then sends reluctantly. ** She's always with Calmwind. ** Trollkiller slips in the mud, curses something unintelligbly - oddly enough, the only thing he ever really _speaks_ are curses - and catches himself, hand into the muddy underwater ground. ** Well. I'm quite #*@&( wet already... ** Standing, he shakes himself off, muddy water going everywhere. Trollkiller locksends to Midnight, Trollkiller keeps his unreasonable upset to himself - it's just water, but it's still just one. more. thing. It's not Midnight's fault. ** Well. She's with you _now_, I suppose... have you tried being with them? ** Shake-shake-shaking, Trollkiller pads over to a nearby tree, one that used to be atop a little mound, now one of the few standing, sprouting out of a submerged hill. He squeezes water out of his fur, as it stands on end - the water's cold. It's when he's leaning over, trying to wash a clump of mud out of his hair, when he spots a reflection in the water that seems ... different. Midnight pauses, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he keeps moving, nudging at the ground with his newly found branch. ** Or Sweetleaf... Maybe some of it's still here. The magic, I mean. ** After another thoughtful moment he adds. ** I wonder if any of them are still here. The... spirits. ** That thought is really rather uncomfortable. There will be new spirits now, if there are any at all. But surely Rillwhisper is not among them, or Woodhawk and Trollkiller would have known? Trollkiller senses in a locksend, Midnight sends in a burst of exasperation. ** It's not her, it's him. ** There's a flicker of... something or other, quickly stifled. He adds. ** She's making him not like me. ** Trollkiller blinks, shakes again, looks again. He heard Midnight's send, but is distracted. He sniffs, sniffs again, follows the reflection - and catches a scent. Brightmetal. He follows. ** I've found something. ** Trollkiller charges through the water, following the little breeze - it's close, and it's something of ours. It is strange, to actually be... conversing... with Midnight. Wayfound shoots him a bemused glance, then slowly nods as she edges cautiously towards a twisted clump of greenery that only can be dignified with that name by virtue of profound generosity; this little tangle of grasses is far more brown than green and looks limp and wan in the middle of this new stretch of marsh. ** It would make sense... for Sweetleaf, ** she begins -- only to be cut off by the sending from her Fur-father. Her head swivels around in Trollkiller's direction. ** ?! ** Midnight looks that way, too. And after a moment, rises up half an elf-height for a better view. ** What is it? Should we come to you? ** Trollkiller is tearing into a little clump of deadwood, branches, rotting vegetation, and stench, caught in a near-shapeless mass by a downed tree. Sniffing furiously, he doesn't respond other than to relay the scent of familiar brightmetal. Trollkiller stops suddenly, looks into the reduced mass, then reaches in again, carefully, pulling at something. It's wedged in tightly - one, two, three, four, five, and it's free. Despite being encrusted with mud and filth, he recognises it immediately. ** It's Rillwhisper's knife. The one Rainfire gave her. ** He dips it into the running water, to clean it free of the worst of the mud. That Trollkiller has found something is all too obvious to the chieftain's daughter. The first surge of real hope she's felt in days swells through her, though she tamps it fiercely down in an attempt to keep herself from expecting too much too soon. ** Let's go, ** she urges Midnight roughly, setting herself to picking a path across the muck to her Fur-father. ** Let me see? ** she calls. Trollkiller sends to Rainfire and Woodhawk, ** I've found Rillwhisper's knife. The one you gave her, Rainfire. ** Rainfire locksends to Trollkiller, ** Just the knife? Not... ? ** Midnight follows Wayfound this time, resisting the temptation to try to glide the distance. He'll need his strength for later, no doubt. ** Then she might be near, too. ** He sounds hopeful, the previous glum expression fading. Trollkiller sends to Rainfire and Woodhawk, ** Just found it. Still looking. ** He relays what he sees, now, to lifemate and... lovemate? as he tears into more of the mound of smoo. Trollkiller lifts the knife back out of the water. Except for some water staining in the leather, it's undamaged. ** Rillwhisper Wolfbringer's Knife. ** He shows it to Wayfound and Midnight, as they make their way through the muck, and nods at Midnight's send. ** She might indeed. Okay. I'm going to send for her. You two search, starting here ** - he taps the downed tree - ** and working out, in a spiral. She could be anywhere around. ** Trollkiller leaps - the first time that's happened in a while - atop the horizontal trunk of the maple, closes his eyes, and starts to send, fiercely. Wayfound tosses a swift nod to Midnight at something unheard, turning and beginning to scan towards Sun-Goes-Down, now meeting everything in her surroundings with the most intently piercing of stares. She begins to choose herself a new path, stepping onward as soon as a stretch of tree trunk or a pool of water proves unsatisfying to her inspection. Farther and farther she gets from the others... though not yet out of sight. Soon, though, something stops her, a tiny little whimper of a noise barely loud enough to seize her attention. She freezes, ears twitching, her gaze affixing upon a strange mass of plant life that seems to her to be a cross between a puffball bush and a tree. [ Rillwhisper says "Puffball bush == pussy willow."] Midnight moves in the opposite direction from Wayfound, searching the ground as carefully as he can. There might be other belongings fallen nearby, in the mud and water. He bends at times to check out a promising bump, but finds nothing. Straightening from yet another false alarm, he looks back to Trollkiller's intently sending figure, dithering about whether to interrupt his concentration. Trollkiller stands, perfectly still, on the maple trunk, sending. There it is again -- that barely audible little cry. Wayfound suddenly frowns to herself, pivoting to scramble to that weird melding of tree and bush. As she does, a flash of something purple and green catches her eye, behind a layer of vines. Her hands pick up speed, moving to clear those vines away, and once she does the cry sounds again. This time, it's louder. /EEE! Is highthing? Is highthing come to find Fallberry? EeeeeeeeEEeeee! Fallberry here! Get Fallberry out!/ Trollkiller senses in a locksend, Rillwhisper does not, as she has not for each and every time you and the others have sought her, answer. But today, something... is different. A stronger sense of presence, perhaps. Somewhere near. Enticingly close. Midnight's consideration is interrupted at that faintly audible but very familiar high-pitched sound. A.. preserver? This time, he really does expend the effort to glide, following the sound to Wayfound's location. Trollkiller sends openly ** !! ** Trollkiller's concentration is rattled a bit, and he redoubles his sendings, unaware of the discovery around him. She's not hard to find; one advantage of this rather washed-out terrain is that Wayfound's bright white-golden hair stands out vividly against the greenish-brown foliage that surrounds her. Just as apparent, too, is the way she rears back in startlement as she clears the last of the vines away from the hollow she's discovered -- giving free passage to the tiny creature that had been trapped within. Fallberry surges out on crumpled-looking wings that nevertheless beat fiercely at the air in its attempts to get aloft, and it promptly attaches itself to the she-cub's head. Its cries peal out in joy: /Busymouth bigwords highthing! Fallberry happy! Fallberry with highthings again!/ Midnight splashes right up to Wayfound, smiling all over. ** It's Fallberry! It's still alive! ** There is intense relief at having found at least one survivor. But the next question follows quickly behind. "Preserver, have you seen anybody else here?" Trollkiller senses in a locksend, Midnight makes his mind up about interrupting. ** Trollkiller, she found a preserver! It's Fallberry! ** Wayfound's eyes have gone round -- and for one of the few times in her young life, the girl's usual stoic mask gives way to something that might, just _might_, almost be an expression of startled pleasure. She raises a hand unthinkingly up towards the little winged creature to try to steady it on her head, beginning hoarsely just about the same time as Midnight speaks, "Have you seen Mother?" But Fallberry, in its elation, seems to be more interested in making a nest of Wayfound's hair and babbling as it does, /Fallberry stuck in muckywet vineplace! Wings all wet! No work good! Fallberry no get free and find highthings and other wethings after nastybad skybooms!/ Bemused all over again by one of the few creatures in the tribe able to out-talk _her_, Wayfound staggers slightly to keep her balance with this frenetic winged thing in her hair. And she sends out sharply, ** Fur-father! Fur-father, come quick, look! We found Fallberry! ** Trollkiller jerks atop the tree and looks over towards Wayfound and Midnight, momentarily unable to focus upon them. ** She's here! She's ... somewhere, here! ** Trollkiller squints, and rubs his eyes. ** ...Fallberry? ** Trollkiller leaps from the tree into the water, padding at top speed towards Wayfound, Midnight, and the preserver, water flying everywhere behind him. ** Fallberry! It always stays with Rillwhisper! ** Midnight sends openly ** She's close, but where? We have to keep looking. ** Midnight rises an elflength into the air again, peering about at the confusion below. ** Can you sense a direction, or anything? ** In the midst of all this, Wayfound recalls that Preservers do not seem to understand or hear sendings. And so she cries urgently to the bug, managing to seize its attention as she barks its name, "Fallberry, where is my mother? Where is Rillwhisper? Have you seen her?" A new surge of hope shoots through her as the bug replies, /Fallberry put sunnygreen highthing in wrapstuff when sunnygreen highthing headbumped and fell into water! Busymouth bigwords highthing want Fallberry show?/ Trollkiller sends, ** No. We're _too_ close, I think. ** He darts around wildly. Midnight says "Oh, yes. Show us, Preserver!" Fallberry veritably beams at Midnight, chirruping, /Fallberry show, flyhighthing!/ It spirals up into the air just over Wayfound's head, pointing a tiny hand forward at the clump of bush and tree from which it has just been rescued. /Sunnygreen highthing in there! All safesnug in wrapstuff! Swiftgrow plantthings came, took Fallberry and sunnygreen highthing up out of nastybad water!/ Midnight sends openly ** Sweetleaf's magic... ** Midnight starts tugging at the nearest branches without further word. Trollkiller what?! and dives at the clump, ripping branches and plants and vines every which way, digging towards the centre of the mass - and starts for just a second, recognising as well the touch of Sweetleaf. Sending an unfocused, undirected apology, he proceeds a bit - just a tiny bit - more carefully. Wouldn't want to upset Sweetleaf's spirit. /Eee! Highthings careful! No hurt wrapstuff!/ But Fallberry's admonition is half-heard at best, at least by Rillwhisper's offspring, who joins Midnight and Trollkiller in the flurry of activity to try to find where the chieftess might be hidden in this tangle of green growing things. Damp bits of earth, half-drowned leaves and waterlogged vines go flying in all directions, provoking the Preserver into diving for cover underneath Wayfound's hair, around back behind her neck. "He felt her," the she-cub opines breathlessly, "he felt her and helped save her." And soon -- a glimmer of something silvery-white beneath the branches. Midnight searches with the rest, as hopeful as any to retrieve the long-lost chieftess, even if he is not as close to her as the other two. Trollkiller spots the flash of silvery thread and forgets care as he digs through the planty crush with Rillwhisper's knife, tearing huge sheafs away at once, until the cocoon is exposed - a large, very roughly elf-shaped form, glittering and damp in the moonlight. "Mother," Wayfound breathes, holding back now to give her Fur-father first right at freeing their chieftess -- his lifemate, after all. "Wait, Fur-father -- the bug said..." She turns her head, fruitlessly as Fallberry is clinging to the back of her neck and therefore out of her field of sight. "Fallberry! You said Mother bumped her head. Fur-father, do we want to unwrap her here?" /Sunnygreen highthing all headbumped,/ the Preserver pipes. Trollkiller stops, knife at the edge of the cocoon, hand shaking, desperate to open it, to make _sure_... but... Midnight watches the wrapstuff worriedly. ** Perhaps it's safer, with a healer... ** He's as eager as any to see it opened, but Wayfound is right. Trollkiller bodily picks up the cocoon, holding it above the water, and sends into the distance, sharp and focused and loud. Then, he nods to Midnight and Wayfound. ** Yes. You're right. For now, we go... to the mountain. ** He almost said home, but - they can't. He nods as he gets an answer. ** Savith is coming. He'll pick up Woodhawk and Rainfire along the way. ** Arguably, they should continue searching for others. But neither is going to be away from this, for love or blood. Or rather, more likely, because of love and blood. Trollkiller waves furiously as the hawk comes into view, carrying beloveds and a very sleepy looking Savith, who... doesn't seem to mind, as much. He's smiling a bit, despite - for him - the hour. As the great bird lands, splashing in shallow water, Trollkiller, Midnight, and Wayfound rush over and quickly climb on birdback, tying down Rillwhisper's cocoon - tho' it hardly needs it, as her love and lifemates are securement enough. Then the giant avian leaps into the air, towards mountain - with good word, at last. ----- end log -----