"Catching Up" Log Date: 4/9/03 Log Cast: Rillwhisper, Trollkiller (spoofed by Rillwhisper), Ynderra (spoofed by Rillwhisper), Cutter, Strongbow Log Intro: It has taken moons, but at last the deed seems to be done: the mad Firstborn Doreel has been subdued enough that the magic-users of Sorrow's End, Savah and Djhala at their head, have been able to restore something akin to sanity to his fractured mind. The healing has been long and arduous, though, and not without cost--for Doreel very nearly overcame Ynderra with his anguished, frantic attempt to drive her into attacking him with her own magic. Already vulnerable due to her own turmoil over what Doreel had done to her twin sister's daughter Trouble, the young Wolfrider healer had to be pulled bodily out of the circle of power by Rillwhisper. And even now, as the party from Lostholt trudges homeward again, the daughter of Tyleet is uncharacteristically pensive; so, for that matter, is Rillwhisper herself. The Wolfbringer has had her own private worries, what with encountering her wandering daughter Wayfound and learning that Wayfound intends to lead the humans who call themselves 'Vraeyans' to their distant home--and moreover, she has not forgotten the explosive argument she had with her soul-brother Strongbow about those humans, as well as the Firstborn. Now Strongbow has taken the chieftaincy of Lostholt, and for all that she would trust the archer with her life, she is not at all sure what it will mean to have him leading the tribe. Or what kind of reception he will give her now that she and the other Lostholters have returned.... ---------- Base of the Lost Holt Father Tree(#765RJa) 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 and you can see some of the scars left by the terrible blaze on the branches as leaves turn yellow as flame and red as blood. Brown weeds and night blooming wildflowers lie dead or dying in natural disorder around the trees roots. Like old friends, the gnarled trees embrace one another, their many branches entwining to form a canopy high above the ground, though most of the leaves now decorate the ground and crunch under your feet. It is a cool autumn morning. The father tree is quiet as elves and wolves alike seek to their dens. Contents: Strongbow Cutter(#665PJOUXce0) Skyeyes MoonShadow Obvious exits: Alcove Into the Tree Around the Tree Clearing ** We're coming home. The Firstborn's still in Sorrow's End. ** The sending rises up out of nowhere in the midst of a windy, blustery dawn, a sending that hasn't been heard in the Holt in seasons: Rillwhisper. Spotted first by Dewshine and Tyleet, the Wolfbringer, her younger lifemate, and an extremely subdued-looking Ynderra come trudging into the Holt as morning approaches, all of them looking tired, all of them looking lean--and Rill and 'Derra, at any rate, since most of Trollkiller is covered by fur, looking a trifle more tan than normal. Trollkiller and Ynderra slip off to their dens, the former after embracing Rillwhisper tightly, but Rill lingers out in the clearing, plopping tiredly down to bury her face for a few moments in the ruff of her she-wolf's fur. Cutter is already in the clearing, having been removing some burrs from Ashefur's coat. He stands at that familiar send and grins, **My eyes see with joy,** he sends to her even as he moves to greet the wolfbring by clasping her forearms with his hands. He greets the other two but since they seem to be more intent on resting, he lets them be for now. Not yet asleep, the send causes the archer-chief to dart out of his den and deftly hop down to the forest floor. Nodding a greeting to Cutter, Strongbow waits, watching Rillwhisper and the others with a glower that seems just a little too blustery to be true. He has lost a bit of weight as well...all the LostHolters have, but that doesn't seem to have dimmed their spirit. ** Well? ** he tries to bark at prodigal wolfrider, but he can't hide the spark of amusement and relief that dances through his send. Rill lifts her head to look at both of them--the chief that was, the chief that is. Her mouth quirks a bit in greeting at Cutter, but not until Strongbow's come forward and she sees the expression on his face does a certain tension drain out of the set of her slender shoulders. "My eyes see both of you with joy," she says huskily. "Short form of the news... near as I can tell, the Mother of Memory and her lifemate have pounded something like sense back into Doreel's head. It wasn't easy... but they've decided he's safe enough to let out of the wrapstuff and the village is watching him." Cutter Pale hair, with just a hint of golden highlight, tumbles in a soft fall to the small of his back. A pair of delicately pointed ears part the hair that frames his strong-jawed face. Fiercely intense eyes of the clearest blue gaze upon the world with a lupine slant. High cheekbones and expressive brows bracket those thought-filled orbs on either side of his short, squarely-tipped nose above his wide mouth. All in all, it is an expressive face that readily shows his every emotion to those around him. A vest of pale, golden brown leather hugs his torso and laces up the front of his chest. Swathes of varying shades of blue are stitched onto the vest adding a touch of color here and there while accentuating the hue of his eyes. Matching trousers of golden brown hug his legs, while a darker loin cloth hangs over front and back suspended from a twist of leather braid. On the front 'flap' is sewn an oval feather of shimmering blue. Dark brown boots, reach to his knees and are held up by stirps of blue leather that criss cross up his legs from the ankle. At his right hip hangs a dark blue scabbard, worked with bright metal trim in which rests New Moon, his father's sword. A band of gold encircles the upper part of his left bicep. From this hang a pair of feathers that flutter with his every movement. A golden ring encircles the base of his neck bearing no other ornamentation. Gone, are any signs of his former chieftaincy since the challenge that cost him his right to lead except for the proud bearing in his stance. Strongbow Like the arrows he unerringly shoots, Strongbow stands tall and straight, slender and elegantly-shaped as any bow he has used over his many turns. An elder in the tribe, Strongbow still has many, many turns before he begins to succumb to venerable age. Mahogany hair crowns his head, full and wild, not quite reaching the middle of his back. By the rare light of the daystar and the more common light of the moon, it seems to glow a dark red, but in the pitch black of a starless night, it is a deep rich auburn, bordering on burgundy. Held back by a soft strip of leather from his eyes, the top is also pulled back in a somewhat short chief's lock...newly tied in. The rest is left to fall unbound. Light brown eyes, heavily slanted above high cheekbones are rumored to be the sharpest of any elf's. His skin is fair as any Wolfrider's might be, there once might have been a sprinking of freckles on his face, but age and so little time spent under the daystar's watch has caused them to fade to near oblivion. Everything about this elf is all sharpness and sinew, including his features. Angles and lines, the closest he comes to softness is the fact that the point of his chin has been obscured by ruddy face-fur. A fairly recent development in his appearance, his face-fur has grown in as a sort of goatee, with a thin line continuing along the line of his jaw. Everything about the elf is utilitarian...nothing is to get in the way of his archery. His clothes are simple, tight-fitting brown tunic trimmed in gold and green leaf-like patterns, snug fiting leggings, and high boots that rise above his knees. Simple bracers support his wrists, tooled and lovingly dyed by his lifemate who knows his style as well as she knows her own. Carrying: Quiver Longbow Wisp Cutter lets go of Rill so she can greet Strongbow properly. He backs up, then letting the two of them have a moment. Ashefur sniffs at Cutter's hand as the former chieftain takes back his previous seat and starts removing more burrs from the wolf's coat. ** Lifemate? ** Savah has a lifemate? How...strange. Well, it's probably none of his business anyhow. Reaching out a hand to pull Rillwhisper into an embrace, Strongbow offers, **It is good to have you back home, and safe. ** Oh, he was concerned that the Firstborn would do something odd to her. Rill's hugs to both of the others are weary ones, but no less strong because of it. She takes the time to breathe in Cutter's scent and then Strongbow's; to both of their noses, her own scent is blessedly the same. The wolf is still in it, where it should be; there's no itch of magic about her like there had been about the maiden Oriolle, nothing speaking of the Mad One's meddling. ** Djhala, ** she clarifies for the archer-chief's benefit, grinning crookedly up at him. ** I'd forgotten about him, honestly. Being Savah's lifemate and all. But once we got back to the Sun Village it came back to me. I think I'd known they Recognized, at one point. ** Cutter is relieved to find no traces of the Mad One's magic on Rill. He, too, recalls Savah's lifemate... of course, he was in the Sun Village much more recently than Strongbow. **It's good to have you back,** he sends to RIllwhisper even as his fingers continue to comb through his bond's fur, untangling more burrs from the wolf's thick fur. Strongbow gives a nod, holding Rillwhisper for just a moment longer than is necessary. Well, now that she's returned, he can fill her in, ** There's been a famine...food is pretty scarce. There are also visitors to the Holt...two Underworlders, who are guarded, and a few other Wolfriders from other Holts.** Other than that, well, it's just been the usual things about a Holt. The relief she doesn't actually speak or send is palpable to Strongbow in the set of Rillwhisper's frame, but once he finally pulls away she nods evenly up at him, glancing back and forth between both him and Cutter as she observes, "We noticed the lack of game on the way in, Trollkiller and 'Derra and I. We've mostly been eating stores we brought out of the Sun Village on the way." She pauses. Then considers, then glances off into the distance and adds gruffly, "I should probably also tell you both I've seen my cub." Cutter's brows arch as he watches Rillwhisper and catches the gruffness of her tone. He considers that for just a moment before asking, "Is she well?" At this point, he can only hope that that is a positive reply but, he braces for the worst just in case. Strongbow is quite obviously wondering if she's still with the Human, but he doesn't ask even in a send. Instead, he nods and waits for the answer to Cutter's question. "She's not coming back," is the Wolfbringer's answer to that. Her jaw tightens; not that she says as much in words or sending, but her agitation at this is apparent enough in the tired lines of her features. "Turns out Djhala's actually journeyed to where those Tall Ones came from. A long time ago. Far, far towards Away-from-Hub. He told Wayfound where to go and she's leading them home." Cutter lurches to his feet, "What?!?" He's entirely too shocked for further words. Okay, sure, he's lead a couple of humans back to their people and helped them get back into their chief's good graces but, that was long ago. Finally, he just shakes his head. He really has little right to say much even if she is leading them to a nest of humans that.. from what he can recollect... seem more advanced than the humans near the holt. The Archer-chief's nostrils flare at the news, and any trace of amusement leave his eyes. ** That's her choice then. ** But no, she's not coming back. Not while he's chief. If she wants to gamble on Humans, so be it...but he's not about to encourage it. No, Rillwhisper is obviously not pleased about it in the slightest. She doesn't meet either Strongbow's or Cutter's gazes, but something of the tension she'd held before and which ebbed at the archer's greeting rises up again. Her eyes close, and she mutters tautly, "Aye, well." She could say more. But she's already well aware of her soul-brother's receptivity--or lack thereof--to information about the strange Tall Ones from afar. So she tamps down on it, burying it deep, and the only sign of it remains a shadow in her eyes as she finally glances back and adds, "Thought you should know." Cutter just shakes his head. The news caught him completely by surprise but, now that he's had a moment to think about it.. well.. maybe Wayfound knows what she's doing. He hopes so, at least. He looks up toward the father tree and decides to share the news of Rill's return with Leetah. Perhaps that news will bring a smile to the desert-born healer's face.. there has been one there so rarely of late. **I'm glad you're back,** he sends before he ducks into the father tree and out of sight. Strongbow watches Cutter's abrupt departure with furrowed brows before he turns back to his soul-sister, ** I'm sorry, Rill. I know how hard it is to let your cub go...even if you don't agree with what they do. ** His send holds a surprising amount of empathy, but, after all, he hasn't seen his own cub in turns upon turns. High Ones, but she'd been dreading fighting with Strongbow about this. Rillwhisper does not let herself look back at him even as she tosses a grateful send after the departing Cutter--but at that sending, her attention jerks abruptly back up to the archer. That she is surprised manifests in the widening of her eyes; that she is touched shows as her gaze turns liquid. Then, her mouth quirks back into a bit of a grin as she sends, low and soft and clear, an acknowledgement of her own surprise and gratitude for the sentiment. ** I didn't see much of Dart, ** she confides, ** though I didn't have much time to look. Caught something about Gentlerock, though, on my way out of the village. He seems to have surfaced again. ** Strongbow makes a sharp gesture at the name of his grand-cub, ** I am not pleased with Gentlerock right now. Let him stay hidden for a while... ** so that his grandsire doesn't try to knock some sense into him. Fair enough. Rillwhisper nods her head a single time, before blowing out a breath and shoving a slim hand back through her hair, pushing strands of red-gold off her brow. ** What else... Oriolle. The one the Firstborn had captured. She took off before we finally figured out how to handle him; don't honestly know what happened to her. ** This, too, vexes her; the one called Ree hadn't exactly been stable, after all, last she looked. ** Probably was for the best; the two of them together, even with him wrapstuffed, was asking for trouble. They kept sending to each other, and near as I could tell, _she's_ a shaper in the making since there's no way _I_ know of that Doreel could have shaped something _through_ her. But at least one of the healers managed to get her a little bit less crazy before she vanished. ** The archer gives a shrug, ** As long as she's not here... ** he doesn't really care what happened to her. Maybe it's a callous way of thinking, but the girl wasn't pack...and they have some pretty important matters for him to deal with right here than to worry about an errant elf who isn't quite 'right'. Also fair enough. Rill searches her recollections, comes up with nothing else worthy of reporting to a chieftain--and then at that thought looks Strongbow up and down, closely. ** What can I do, now that we're back? ** she asks. ** Thought I smelled some rain on the wind as we were riding in, for what it's worth; do you need my eyes out there looking for any game that might be following the weather? ** Leaning lightly against his ever-present bow, Strongbow offers, ** If you'd like. You should rest...we have enough scouts looking for any type of game they can. We've even taking to sending out hunting parties far from the holt for meat. I think this Whitecold may be the hardest...but we've made it through worse. ** ** Aye, for now I need to not be on wolfback for a while and go take in the scent of my own den. ** Weariness is laced through the sending, but so at least is a bit of humor. ** When I get up again, though, I can scout. Or whatever's called for. ** But before she turns to go, she pauses, lifting up a hand to clasp the archer's shoulder, and she adds, ** My eyes definitely see with joy, Strongbow. ** Strongbow gives a slightly lopsides smirk as he touches Rillwhisper's elbow briefly, ** As do mine. Now, go rest! ** It's half an order, half a request from a concerned friend. Someone else in the tribe might attempt a joke: 'As you command, my chief.' Or some such. Rill doesn't bother; instead, she simply flashes that small grin, nods once, and turns to follow the path her lifemate has taken... now that she is finally home. [End log.]