"A Gift from the Heart" Log Date: 6/19/03 Log Cast: Mathryn, Ynderra Log Intro: After the wild and impetutous turns of the seasons of her cubhood, to have her be hiding in quiet seclusion from most of the Holt is a change indeed for Ynderra of Lostholt, child of Tyleet... but all the same, that's exactly what Ynderra has been doing ever since returning from moons spent in Sorrow's End trying to help heal the mad Firstborn Doreel. What the experience meant for her she's discussed with no one except her mother Tyleet, and to a lesser extent Rillwhisper; for the rest of the tribe, though, it's meant that the usually bubbly and cheerful healer has been barely seen around the Holt. As a result Ynderra has missed out on many of the happenings at Lostholt as of late--such as the increasingly lengthy visit of Mathryn of the Cat Elves, and his growing attachment to Yun, daughter of Skywise.... ---------- 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 snow covered branches. Snow lies piled around the trees roots and in drifts around the Father Tree. Like old friends, the gnarled trees embrace one another, their many branches entwined and now snow collects atop them, occasionally crashing down to the ground below. It is an icy whitecolds night. Contents: Mathryn Obvious exits: Alcove Into the Tree Around the Tree Clearing It might, at first, be a rather alarming sight..certainly the sound effects support that. But it seems that there's a rather large, inky black panther that is trying his best to maul a certain elf. They're certainly making a big production of it, growls and snarls and such coming from both combatents. Upon closer inspection, however, there is little actual damage being done by/to either one, and the panther seems to be apt to lick the elf as gnaw on him. There have been any number of strange noises around Lostholt for some time; this is what you get when your Holt has a fairly steady number of visitors from other environs around at any given time. However, on this particular Whitecold night the strange noises have an uncharacteristic result: drawing the presence of a short she-elf in a cloak, who pokes her dark head out of one of the upper levels of the Father Tree with an expression that suggests that she's been jolted out of a less than satisfying slumber. Ynderra frowns vaguely down at the interplay between the elf and the cat... but is not alarmed. She's seen such things between her tribesmates and their own wolf-friends before. She does, however, decide that sleeping in is not exactly an option, and as she comes climbing light-footedly out along the nearest branch that will support her weight, she calls down, "And here I thought tussling like that with an elf-friend was just a wolf thing." Ynderra(#1290PQace$0) This is an elfin maiden of unremarkable height, and a slim and lithely curved build. Her hair is curly and raven-black, and pulled back from her face into a braid that reaches down to the small of her back and frequently bounces when she moves about. Loose curls too short to be held in the braid wisp about her face. High cheekbones give that face a delicately sculpted look, and a lupine slant to her smoky, dark blue eyes. When she speaks, it's in a high, clear soprano. For the Whitecold season, she is clad in snugly fitting, warm leathers: a trim jacket of red and brown dappled leather over a short-sleeved half-tunic of a deep, dark red that leaves her midriff exposed, breeches of a lighter reddish-gold with grey fox fur trim at the waist, and calf-height soft grey boots. Over all of this, she sports a dark red cloak, trimmed with the same grey fox fur. Mathryn Mathryn is a rugged, often more than a little dirty elf in his prime. He stands just under four feet in height, and has long, straight hair that's a rich, earthy russet brown in color. His hair is generally swept back into a haphazard ponytail with a bit of tooled leather. His skin is a warm bronze color, oft marked with dirt or painted stripes and slashes for camoflage. His face is, like many elves, devoid of hair, and rather pleasant to look upon. Large, expressive eyes, a dark amber in color, are the hightlight of his face. His build is wiry, compact..strong, but not overly so, built more for stealth and speed than brute strength. He wears simple clothing, leaving much of his body exposed in deference to the jungle's heat. A long loincloth, and matching vest are about it, both made out of tooled leather, and fairly loose on him. A belt is worn around his narrow waist, to hold his loincloth in place, along with a barrage of different pouches. A bow and quiver often criss-cross around his chest..and, when hunting, he carries a long spear with a carved wooden shaft. Soft, but tough soled boots, leather patches worked through the lacings up the ankles, to protect against thorns and snakebites. New to his ensemble, if you wish to call it that, are two things, both, ironically enough, from the same source. First, along his left side, is a series of wicked looking scars, partially concealed by his vest. They're clearly from the claws of some great hunting beast..claws which make up the necklace that clatters around his neck, along with a pair of evil looking fangs. Mathryn gets distracted by the question, which allows the cat to pin him and begin bathing him, "What?" he manages to get out before laughs and tries desperately to get away, "Stop that!" Okay, she can't help it. Ynderra lets out a tired but honest giggle at the sight and drops down to a lower branch -- and from there to the ground. But she knows better than to approach a stranger wolf before the beast has had time to react to her presence, and she isn't about to come too close to an unfamiliar panther. Especially since she knows far less about the ways of panthers than she does the ways of wolves. "Rillwhisper was right," she says. "I've been in too much of a mope. I had no idea we had a Cat Elf here." Mathryn manages to extricate himself finally from his bond's ministrations, his hair all messed up. He straightens his vest and offers a lopsided smile in greeting, "Mathryn," he offers, and gives the cat a body shove, "That's River.." "Ynderra," pipes the maiden, who sweeps a curious blue gaze over elf and cat alike, and who grins sheepishly in the bargain. Then she cants her dark head and adds in an abrupt burst of chatter, brow crinkling, "You... _are_ a Cat Elf? I haven't really had my head under a log and not noticed another tribe with cat friends spring up lately? I mean, Djhala has a cat bond in Sorrow's End, but that's not the same, I mean, I didn't _think_ the Cat Elves usually bonded with longtooths--" And then she catches herself, pinkens, and finishes ruefully, "Um. Sorry! Not every night I wake up to cat noises out here." Mathryn nods and reaches over to scratch behind River's ears, "Yes, from the Forevergreen" he replies, "I'm an herbalist and scout and came to trade information with your herbalists and healers here." He looks towards the denning trees a moment.."Ended up staying longer than I'd anticipated." 'Derra blinks. Twice. And then blurts, "Oh, well, _I'm_ a healer!" That makes her giggle again, though there's a bit of a weary uncertain tinge to it, and she leans a bit to try to get a better look at the big cat and surmise whether it's safe to come closer. Her nose crinkles this time rather than her brow, and she mutters fretfully, "She could have _said_ something rather than just trying to drag me feet first out of m--guh!" With first one hand and then the other she musses her own hair in general frustration before shaking herself visibly, as if trying to throw off a soaking. Or maybe frustration. "Um, um, so. Did you talk to Leetah? Or Hope? Leetah's better at healing than I am, but I sort of kind of lose track of when Hope's around and when she isn't since she's a Sea Elf and goes home a lot to visit HER tribe, and, um... well!" She babbles rather readily, and looks a trifle shy at the same time. Mathryn blinks under the verbal onslaught and takes a few moments to try to sort through all that and form a reply. The panther flops down behind Mathryn, though he lifts his head and sniffs in your direction, his thick tail thwapping against the ground repeatedly. "I have spoken with Leetah, and Shenshen," he replies finally, "They have both been helpful." Well, that's promising. The panther's body language, at any rate. Most of her attention on said panther, Ynderra comes tentatively closer to the best and offers him a crooked little smile even as she absently goes on, "Oh well, okay then... Shenshen's a lot older than I am and she knows a lot about herbs, yeah... I've been trying to pick it up since I shape, too, but mostly I've been working on it from the treeshaping angle and asking Rill a lot of stuff since her brother was a really powerful shaper and he grew a lot of things at the Willowholt before it got flooded and destroyed..." Hrmm. Does holding out a hand for sniffing work with panthers as well as wolves? 'Derra tries it, a bit more comfortable with looking at the cat than she is at the visitor. "But I guess you're probably better off talking to Grandfather anyway about shaping. _He's_ better at that than I am. Um, that'd be Redlance, that is. He's my grandfather." Mathryn just kinda watches you, a little overwhelmed by the amount of verbal information you throw at him. While the cat sniffs at your hand curiously, he works on getting his hair untangled and unmussed..or tries to, "I haven't gotten a chance to talk with him yet," he admits, perhaps referring to Redlance. Holding her hand stock still, keeping an uncertain eye on the panther -- I mean, after all, this _isn't_ a wolf, and it's probably best not to alarm him! -- Ynderra nibbles on her lower lip and then blushes hard, looking up again. "I'm doing my magpie impersonation again, aren't I?" she says, tinily. "Sorry! You're just the second elf I've laid eyes on in an eight of days and that's only because Rillwhisper threw me out of my den a little while ago and told me to stop sulking." Mathryn smiles a little and nods, "Perhaps you're making up for all the time you didn't see anyone else," he replies, then blinks and stops, "Why were you hiding in your den?" he asks, looking a little puzzled. "I tend to spend a lot of time by myself," he admits, "Back in the Forevergreen, but here, I don't get to do that a lot" To that, Ynderra keeps blushing. Her head cants again to the side in a sort of half-duck, half-shrug, as she confesses in return, "Well, um. I _was_ sulking." She doesn't elaborate on why, though, but her expression clouds a trifle as she looks over at you at last. "Oh, so... I guess if you did that you probably wouldn't -- oh, _hairballs_ --" And with that, she blurts out, "I don't suppose you know if your tribe has been visited by a Jeela or a Kai lately, do you?" Mathryn looks rather puzzled for a moment, trying to keep up with your necksnapping shifts in conversation, hairballs? "Not when I'd left, no," he replies, to your last question. The cat seems to decide that you're harmless, if noisy, and lays his head down to nap a bit. Ynderra visibly wilts, withdrawing her hand, her expression clouding further. "Oh," is all she says to that, a possibly further neck-snapping switch considering the brook-like babble that seems to be her mode of conversation. Mathryn watches you with a mix of wariness and suspicion, as if waiting for the damn to burst again, you only said one word that time after all. "Friends of yours?" he asks finally. A pause. Two. Then, her blue gaze resting pensively upon River's prone napping form, her dainty hands reaching out to pull the cloak a little closer about her, Ynderra murmurs, "Jeela's a Cat Elf. Like you. Thought maybe she might have gone back to her tribe at last..." Another pause. At last, in an even tinier voice, she continues, "Kai's her son. He went looking for her." One more pause. "And he's, um." The last two words are barely audible. "My lifemate." Mathryn ooohs softly and nods, understanding immediately your change in demeanor, or at least, thinking he does. "No, I don't remember her there, but I have been gone a while too," he adds, hoping to cheer you up a little. 'Derra blows out a breath and nods bleakly, saying, "I suppose that was probably the first place he was going to go..." She'd dropped down to sit gracefully on her knees to get her hand within sniffing distance of the panther, and she stays there now, staring off at nothing in particular; with that look to her, lines of weariness might be glimpsed around her eyes. "But." Then she looks back at you again, mustering a small smile that doesn't quite make it up to her eyes, and adds earnestly, "Sorry to hit you with all that! I just, um. Haven't seen him in so long." The cat lifts his head to sniff at your hand again, then lays it back down again, watching you through partially closed eyes. Mathryn nods, an understanding look on his face, "I have recently found someone who.." he blushes a little.."who ..will likely be my 'mate," he replies, glancing towards the trees again, "I can understand how you must feel." "Oh, well!" Ynderra's smile grows a little brighter, and only with a little bit of deliberate effort on her part. "Good for you. Something to make the trip extra special, huh? Somebody in our tribe, or another visitor?" She glances this way and that, half wondering who _else_ might be lurking around the Holt that she's managed to miss. _High Ones. I -have- been under a log...._ Mathryn blushes again and smiles a little bashfully, "Someone in your tribe," he replies, "Which is why I haven't left, and might indeed stay.." he sighs as if that decision still troubles him. "Her name is Yun." Blue eyes go round at that, and Ynderra's mouth makes a small wordless 'o'. Then she exhales a soft whistle. And at last she leans her head forward into a slender hand, rubbing her brow and chuckling with an almost helpless, weary amusement. "I should be renamed Turtle," she laments. "Or Trundlebug. Or whatever would be a good name for something that hides under a rock or a log. I would have THOUGHT I'd have noticed, but apparently--guh!" And she looks up, smiling more forthrightly now. "Congratulations, then. And welcome to Lostholt even if I am unforgivably late." Mathryn laughs at your reaction, "Well, you have been hiding in your den," he points out, "We haven't told many people yet, though I'm sure there are those who can guess." "There are several sharper blades than me in the Holt, that's for sure," 'Derra sighs, but it's only gentle self-recrimination rather than anything with any real vigor. "Rillwhisper's probably sniffed it out even if you haven't seen her yet. She used to be a chieftain before she and her lifemates came here... she was chieftess at Willowholt. So she knows things." She stops, considers, and then adds, "She's got more wolf than I do but she told me once, if I actually went looking for Kai myself, I should look for -- who was it -- Kaer!" Ynderra lifts her head with a bit of satisfaction at the recollection. "Rillwhisper remembers him. 'Cat chief,' she calls him. Is he still chief of the Cat Elves?" Mathryn blinks a couple of times, well, he's gotten you back to your apparently normal and talkative self, "yes, Kaer is still Chief," he replies, concentrating on that last bit. "Oh good, I'll have to tell Rill, I suppose she'll like that--" And aye, Ynderra seems to have rediscovered her verbal brook for all that a trace or two of a shadow might be lingering about her eyes. Or might not. She sits a little straighter there on her knees, chin lifted, evidently determined to be sunny. "So you obviously like Yun," she notes, winking one blue eye beneath a dark brow, "but this is awfully Hubward for a Cat Elf! You'll probably want some more clothes now that the Whitecold's come. You should talk to Moonshade." Mathryn laughs a little, "Yes, like, and more," he replies. "She mentioned his name as well," he replies, "She said I'd need winter leathers, and I suspect she is right, I have never experienced weather as cold as she says it gets here." All at once Ynderra giggles. "Moonshade's a she-elf, silly," she chides, but not unkindly. "Even if Strongbow took males to his furs--" _That_ seems to make her have to choke back a second giggle for no apparent reason, but somehow she manages to maintain a straight face (more or less) as she goes on, "--you couldn't mistake Moonshade for one! Yun's right though. It'll snow again soon, I'm sure. And Yun knows snow! Probably because she's part Go-Back." Mathryn blinks and grins a little, "Well, I hadn't met Moonshade yet, so I couldn't know if she was a she or not," he replies. An eminently sage reply, it must be admitted, and Ynderra succeeds in a third giggle. "Can you send?" she asks then, proferring forth an image all at once: ** ** "That's Moonshade," she clarifies. "She's our tanner. Well, our main tanner. She's _awfully_ good at it. She'll make you something, I'm sure, if you stay! You'll want something anyway for when it snows." Mathryn blinks, and then chuckles a little..**No, I can't send** he sends back with a wink. He studies the mental image for a moment or two, then nods, **I'll be sure to find her before it gets cold** he shudders in revulsion at the thought of what's to come for weather. Ah, so the maiden's eyes _can_ twinkle. At least a little. They do at the teasing sending, and then Ynderra lithely rises, turning to cast a liquid gaze upon the great Father Tree. ** I like Newgreen and summer better myself, I mean, that's when the trees are most awake... but Whitecold's not so bad. There's something... safe and peaceful about snow. ** Then she considers... and turns to scoop up a chunk of branch that the Tree must have shed not terribly long ago. She considers some more. And then her hands kindle with a green-golden light, while she props the log fragment in one palm and draws from it, with the other, suddenly fluid living wood. It molds beneath her fingertips into a fair approximation of the shape of the panther's head viewed from the side; as she works, 'Derra tucks her lip beneath her teeth unthinkingly. In moments the cat-head comes free of the log that had birthed it, and she turns back to toss it over lightly to you. "Does that look okay to you?" she pipes. Mathryn doesn't share you view of Whitecold, to judge by his expression. Though, as you plantshape the hunk o' branch into a sculpture of River's head, his eyes widen in what is likely wonder, quite impressed by your skill. He catches the piece more out of instinct than anything else as you toss it to him, **that is amazing** 'Derra blushes again, but now more due to the praise than anything else, and she actually scuffs a foot a bit before she then ohs! and hops over to poke one slender finger at her creation... to coax a hole to form in a point in the middle, towards the top. "Put it on a cord," she suggests brightly, "and make a necklace, and give it to Yun." 'Derra blushes again, but now more due to the praise than anything else, and she actually scuffs a foot a bit before she then ohs! and hops over to poke one slender finger at her creation... to coax a hole to form in a point in the middle, towards the top. "Put it on a cord," she suggests brightly, "and make a necklace, and give it to Yun." Mathryn blinks as he watches you shape the wood more, then smiles at your idea, "I will do that," he replies, liking the thought of giving his ladylove a gift, "I don't see much of..that done." he admits, hefting the wooden panther head a little. "What done? Oh! Shaping?" Ynderra gives another of those sheepish, lopsided little grins, and tucks both her hands away beneath her cloak again now that she's done. "Well, like I said -- Grandfather's better. He did _that_." She bobs her dark head towards the Father Tree. "I can't make a whole tree grow. I think I got more of Father's healing than I did of Grandfather's treeshaping. But I can make cat heads!" Hey, every little bit counts. Mathryn nods as he listens, looking up at the tree with newfound respect, "There is little such magic in my tribe, we have one elf who has the healing talent, but no training. I can send, but .." he shrugs, "little else." Now _that_ seems to throw Ynderra for a bit of a loop. Lostholt has blazed with magic for as long as she can remember: not only her own, but Leetah's and Redlance's as well. And Hope's, and Fhen's, and Woodhawk's, and Suntop's before he went to the Palace. Oh, she's known that there are far less magically inclined tribes -- the Go-Backs come to mind. But she can't quite bend her brain around _them_, either. "Goodness," she blurts. "Hardly any magic at all?" Mathryn shakes his head, "Not as much as I've seen here," he admits. "we rely more on our skills than magic," he adds. His chest puffs out a little, and you can see the scars on his side. Indeed she can, and Ynderra does peek at them with a noticeable consternation. "Oh! Looks like a bear got you or something!" _Her_ skin is flawless and perhaps even a little luminescent -- healer thing? Or just a Wolfrider one? But she does then slant an arch glance up at you and say, deadpan, "Of course, among the Wolfriders -- we learn not to let the bear catch us in the first place. Even those of us with magic." _Now_, oh yes, her eyes glint with both humor and challenge. Mathryn makes a face, "We don't have..bears.." he pronounces the word carefully, "this was done by a longtooth, fortunately, I won the argument we had.." he fingers the necklace of very impressive teeth and claws he wears around his neck. Ynderra proffers another sending: ** ** "Bear," she identifies it, even as she gives the necklace its appreciative due. But that reminds her! Gesturing at the cat head she'd shaped, she adds, "Carry it around a bit... let the wood pick up your scent. So it'll smell like you. Then give it to her. Yun'll be able to tell. Anyway." With that, 'Derra steps back, blows out a breath, and says, "I have to go for a bit... I promised Mother I'd come look at her ankle for her. She had a branch break out from under her yesterday and _she's_ in _her_ den, except she's not sulking! So I'll see you later, okay?" Mathryn blinks and one eyebrow raises at the image of the bear you send him, suitably impressed. You can also pick up him weighing his chances and skills as a hunter against such a beast. He looks down at your gift and nods, tucking it into a pouch on his belt. That seems to sit well with Ynderra, and as she turns to go she says blithely, "It's nice to meet you, Mathryn! And I'm glad you're here -- it'll be nice to see Yun's eyes seeing with joy! See you around!" And with that, with her curls making a black flicker to mark her passing, she hops off with as much nimble grace as she'd arrived, to leave the memory of the warmth of newly shaped wood -- and the memory of the high sweet babble of her words -- to mark that she's been here. [End log.]