Probably one of the best of my Windwalker stories, this is how Sable got to be an outcast. The main bulk of the stories start here, the rest are just background knowledge. ElfQuest belongs to Wendy and Richard Pini, but the Windwalkers belong to me. For more information on the Windwalkers, visit my homepage (one of many) - http://members.nbci.com/Sharna". The lyrics below belong to Graveflower, whomever they might be (I've heard just this one song...)
-The Silent One -
the saga of Sable
"Look into my tear-filled life
alone and about to say goodbye'
nobody will miss me or cry
people don't want the silent one"
- Graveflower
The pet raven ashamed the flock's chief. Despite his name, Ravendark, he had never had a great love for the thieving rascals. And his son's pet Scrag was easily the most annoying of all the flock's miscellaneous bird, and animal friends. The raven, a scruffy grey-black bird at the best of times, perched in the back of his cave, in the small area that young Sable called his roost. The small ledge above the fledgling's bedding fur was often the hiding place for things that disappeared. Not that Sable was much better himself. As much as the chief loved his son, he had to admit the child was mischievous, high spirited. After all, despite the offering of Pharaoh's majestic offspring for his animal friend, Sable had chosen instead to scale the trees where the ravens nested, in order to take a scruffy bird that would never amount to nothing. He had been forced to climb, because the ravens that swarmed around trying to protect their nesting site from the intruder prevented flight. Pharaoh, the large white Chicken Vulture was not as impressive as the Bearded Vultures or Harpy Eagles that his flock normally preferred, but the bird was very regal, very dignified. Aurora, the oldest of the chief's two children, aged about 100 years older than her little brother, but still with the happy go lucky nature of the late adolescent, glided into the cave entrance.
**He's gone again,** she sent to her father. **Why must I always mind the little brat?** Aurora had better things to do after all, she had her eyes on that budding young hunter Dawnclaw.
Ravendark waved the necklace he had fished from the raven's loothole at her. **Look what the bird picked up, I would not wonder if it was of human make.** It was a standard leather band with a small silver charm on it. The charm was some arcane symbol, a human symbol.
The golden-haired woman shrugged. **I am sure he is about here somewhere, he will turn up eventually.**
Ravendark sighed. **You know you are supposed to look after your brother,** he scolded. **What would happen if he ran afoul of a longtooth?**
**Then he would fly away,** Aurora did not like being considered second best to her rapscallion of a brother. It was plain her father adored him - more than he did her anyway. She felt it was because she looked too much like his brother, and Ravendark hated reminding of his brother. After the fight that had resulted in the dark haired brother's exile, he had never felt completely whole. He loved his brother, yet hated him too. Hated him for how he had hurt him. Hated him for getting Sablerose, Sable's namesake, for even though he cared for Moonshine, his lifemate, he would never forget the black-haired plant healer.
**What am I supposed to do with this?** He asked, proffering the necklace to his daughter. **I cannot wear it, it reeks of human.**
**Why don't you let the bird keep it?** She replied. The problem with her father was he thought too hard, worried too much, about absolutely everything. Who really cared about some stupid human necklace? He would be sending her out to search for Sable soon.
**Perhaps you should go and find your brother,** he sent, as if reading her mind. **It will be getting dark soon.**
Rolling her eyes, Aurora whistled to Cloud, her Chicken Vulture. The dainty white vulture soared in to alight beside her, although smaller than the bearded vultures, it was too large to perch on her. **Certainly father,** she replied, and leapt into the wind. Surely the child would reappear soon, besides she had to meet with Dawnclaw at sundown. Her search was perfunctory, and fruitless.
*
Scrag perched crookedly on his young master's shoulder, raising his wings occasionally for balance. A large bird, the raven was barely small enough to actually perch on the broad muscular shoulders of the 10 turn old windwalker. Sable grinned to himself - his foolish sister, so easy to evade. She did not really care to watch him, thus was easily distracted, especially by the presence of older male. Dawnclaw was also easy to fool. All the dark haired elf had to do to gain his freedom was to convince the two of them that the other was somewhere, alone and ready for some sort of romantic distraction. Sable did not care for romance, it was so much more fun to roam the great cliffs, scaring the human children that sometimes picked fruit on them in late spring and sending Scrag into the village to collect keepsakes. He was too young to realise what the impact of this activity was having on the humans of the area. The elf was walking, wending his way through the jagged gully where he liked to play with his raven and where the fruit bushes grew. If he was lucky there would be some ripe fruit. Both Scrag and he liked juicy berryfruits. And if some children were out here picking fruit, well, that was just an added bonus. Jay, Sable's best elf friend and about three years his senior suddenly leapt out from behind a scraggly thorn-berry bush. Sable jumped, and Scrag hurtled into the air, croaking his annoyance.
**Gotcha,** the older elf cackle-sent, leaping on Sable and pinning him to the ground.
**Not for long you haven't,** was Sable's reply, as he wormed his agile body away from his friend's grip and sprang into the air, peregrine-quick.
**I'll catch ya,** Jay's sending was tinged with laughter. His animal friend, a young and somewhat dowdy looking bearded vulture called Hook, swooped down from its perch on a tall, dry looking tree. It was late summer, and the poor plants in the dry gully were starting to show signs of stress - the fruit long gone. The older elf, with his short black-blue and silver hair that earned him his name tousled by the breeze, sprang into the air and flapped clumsily after Sable. It took him longer to get airborne. There was almost something uncanny about the youngster's ability to become fully airborne from standing still - most of the windwalkers had to get a running start. Because of this ability, Sable had a good head-start on his pursuer.
Glancing back, Sable soared through the gully cliffs and maneuvered between the trees with barely a flap. His flying skills were uncannily sharp for his kind. He knew the area well, every nook, every ledge. So confident was he in fact, that he barely noticed when he veered away from the cliffs towards the small human village.
Jay tired quickly, as he always did in these chases, as far as speed and agility went, Sable had both in bucketfuls. Why he had not been given some name like "Swift" or "Peregrine", the older elf could not figure. Sable was such a bleak name, and did naught for the child except match his hair and feather colour. The playful, cheeky fledgling was far from bleak. Even Scrag had disappeared from sight, although Hook still circled the skies like a great whitish phantom. Jay dropped to the ground in an effort to preserve energy. He had been in the gully suffering from the solitude-lust that frequently struck his kin, when his vulture had alerted him of Sable's approaching presence. The appearance of his young friend had entirely cured the solitude-lust. He would have to find him of course, it was close to darktime and the bird-elf knew enough about Sable not to trust him alone at night, not so near human's, anyway.
Sable soared in to perch on the roof of one of the small huts. The walls of the village proved no obstacle to the aerial. He dropped onto his hands to crouch, peering into the gloom below. The village streets were largely empty, a few people hurried about to be inside by dark but that was about it. Easy pickings. The chimney opening was right beside him, it should be an easy job for the raven to fly down and grab something. The windwalker motioned to the chimney, sending his intentions to the raven. He knew Scrag understood. Scrag understood everything. As silent as a feather, the dirty black raven dropped into the opening in the hut roof. Sable paused, peering over the edge, into the darkness below. The wolfblood, as diluted as it was, that still flowed in his veins gave him the power to see the shape of the raven descending. The loot would be good, for only the rich humans had fireplaces inside their houses. Like his animal friend, Sable loved shiny trinkets and exotic objects. He had many hiding places for his toys, the ledge in his cavern was for the trinkets he let Scrag keep, those he thought were ugly or too delicate. Sometimes, when he suffered from solitude-lust, he would disappear for hours, sitting in one of his hiding places and holding a trinket. Trying to imagine where it had come from, what had happened to it. Those periods happened very infrequently however, for Sable was an active, generally happy youngster.
Scrag was taking an awfully long time down there. Sable sent him a quick flash of colour to remind the bird of what he was supposed to be doing. There was no reply, not even the sense that the raven had heard. Suddenly concerned, Sable did something he had never done before, he clambered into the air-hole and dropped downwards into the human habitation.
Silently as a shadow, Jay flew over the human village, knowing that he was likely to find Sable crouching on one of the roof-tops, engaging in his foolhardy stealing behaviour. There was no shape perched on the rooftops. No sign of life anywhere. Twilight drenched the world in a gentle blanket of darkness. Suddenly the elf realized what must have happened - Sable had turned around and headed back to the eyrie, so that he, Jay, would get into trouble for being out later then he was supposed too. Scowling at the youngling's idea of a joke, he did a final aerial circuit of the village then headed for home.
The house was strange, small, and different from an elf-roost. The smell here was stronger. Raised platforms lined one wall, covered in furs. At a wooden table, sat three humans, two big ones and a smaller one. The room was lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling, a mere lantern, but it's light diffused through most of the small room. Sable froze, as he realized the humans could probably see him. They had their backs to him now, but if one were to turn around....
A frightened squawk made him jump. Scrag! The raven was struggling between the tightly gripped jaws of a near-wolf, one of those great scrawny beasts the humans kept as animal-friends but treated as slaves. **Scrag,** he sent in alarm, not directed anywhere in particular. He threw himself behind a cabinet just as one of the humans turned about to see what its pet had caught.
"Got yaself a thievin' varmit then?" The human, a burly male, said. Sable did not understand much human speak, although he had overheard a few words here and there.
As if in reply to the human, the near-wolf stepped towards its master, and placed the wounded bird at his feet. Scrag tried to struggle to his feet, but was badly stunned and wounded. The human stood up, pushing his chair back. He nodded to his family. "Best go finish it off," he said, as he bent, picking the raven up by his feet.
Scrag suddenly sent to Sable, a sending so black and red, so filled with pain and fear that Sable felt as if he was being torn apart inside. Choking in anger, he sprang from his hiding place and leapt at the human. Not a wise move at all. **Leave him alone!** He sent, although he knew the humans would never hear.
With surprising strength, the human met his thrusting attack and pushed the fledgling elf backwards. Sable thwacked against the wall, with such force that he almost lost consciousness from pain. The woman and young human screamed.
"Bird-demon," the woman shrieked, almost in fear. "Kill it, afore it does curse ya. Kill the varmint!"
"Gimme some rope, dear," was the man's brusque reply. "I caught me a litta bird and I intend to be keepin' it."
His head swimming, a terrified Sable made a desperate attempt to reach the fire-hole. The human threw something over him, a thick blanket, knocking him to the ground. Windwalkers were delicate, they broke easily, Sable could no longer fight for consciousness.
*
His eyes would barely open, the pain in his head fought with the pain of his battered body. When they did, he closed them immediately in shock. He was trapped, more thoroughly then he had ever been under his sister's care. And before him, hanging from its poor, broken neck - was his beloved Scrag.
*
**You lost my son!** The darkhaired leader sent viciously to the young elf. It took a lot to get Ravendark angry, but Jay had suscessfully found the limits.
The silver and blue-black haired elf did not reply, the sending had been so strong, so vicious, that he had recoiled in shock, his head swimming.
**Calm down,** Moonshine put a comforting, delicate hand on her lifemates arm. She rubbed the feathers gently. **He is but a child.**
Suddenly the chief became overcome with emotion, collapsing into the arms of his delicate lifemate, running one hand through her braids, the strands of pure black and white that gave her her name. Many of the elves were named after their hair and feather colour, although these names sometimes changed in later life if they proved to have amazing talents or skills. Her silver eyes, the shade of the full moon, shone with tears. She hugged the chief, as fill of concern as he was.
**Go, quickly,** Ravendark snapped at Jay, who stood there, looking lost. The youngling quickly departed. He had no desire to face the chief's wrath.
**We shall find him,** Moonshine sent reassuringly. **We shall find him.**
*
Light shone through the cracks between the boards of the ceiling and the walls. Light shone on the huddled form that was the elf-child. Sable's hands were bound securely together, forcing his wings awkwardly backwards. The rope that held him had been attached to something, but was too taut for him to turn around. He had tried to send his fear to his parents, but the knock his head had suffered disorientated him, made sending impossible. His hair hung lank, framing his face. Before him the corpse that had been Scrag, his best friend, crawled with the lavae of flies. The smell was awlful. Every day, just after dawn, the ugly human brought him food, if you could call it food. Dry bread, over, or under, ripe fruit, chunks of dry, salty meat. He was given water three times a day. The hut was small, and all that disguised the smell of waste was that of the maggot-ridden raven. Every two days he was dragged outside, and taken to a field, where the human yelled at him. He did not quite understand what the human said, but thought it had something to do with his presence making the crops grow. Every day was the same, every day was a living nightmare.
*
It had been almost a full turn of the seasons since their son had disappeared, with no sign at all. Ravendark and his followers had scanned the human village many times, their sending never bringing any sign of hope. The rivers and gullies had been searched for bodies, but that also bore no fruit. The chief was starting to believe he might never see his son again. Moonshine grew increasingly worried about her lifemate. She knew all about death, as the flock's healer she had seen many children die. Always, many children died. She had lost three herself, children born too weak to live more than a few days. She knew the grief her lifemate suffered. It had surprised her greatly when Sable had survived to the age of fledging - he had been so pale of skin, so dark of hair, that she was sure he was sickly. All the other flock-chicks born had been dark-skinned, perhaps because of the heat on the cliff tops. And now he too had perished. She grieved the loss of her son, but was cheered in the knowledge the Aurora was turning into a promising young elf, able to take the leadership when her father could no more. Ravendark's constant obsession with his missing son, the fact he soared over the cliffs sending restlessly, alarmed her. As if by some miracle his long-gone son would suddenly reappear and fly into his arms. If this continued, Aurora may well acquire the chief's featherband before she was ready. She too was worried for her brother. The experience had matured her substantially. Even though death was a way of life for the windwalkers, the complete disappearance of your sibling still came as a shock. She had even given up her meetings with Dawnclaw to learn skills from her father. Perhaps in a hope to distract him, perhaps because she feared that too soon, she would be chief. Jay had become very reclusive - blaming himself for his friend's disappearance and probable death, he had been overtaken by solitude-lust and eventually it consumed him. He had flown away that spring and had not been seen more than a glimpse of since.
It was a hard time too for the flock, having to cope with their chief's problems as well as their own.
*
The young elf crouched in the bands of light. His spirit had been shattered, his mind wandered in a dreamland - a land of darkness, great stormclouds, wretched winds and thunder. Briefly he would return to reality, but those times had become fewer. The stormy dreamland was his sanctuary, he hated it with avengence, but even the torment of his mind was better than the tortue of reality. Sometimes he would hear things in his head, words, messages, he knew he should understand them. But their meanings were as lost to him as Scrag. The dessicated corpse still hung from the ceiling support, but memories of his childhood had all too soon been replaced by the thunderstorms of his mind. Sable no longer cared or knew what happened to him. He only wished to die. It seemed his desire was not going to come true however, even when he refused food and water, the torturer forced it down his throat. Small chunks, so that Sable could not gain release by choking. His wrists were chapped and bleeding from the pull of the rope, even though he had long since stopped fighting it. Some of his wing feathers had moulted. When the torturer took him to the fields, the torturer's son cleaned out the shed. When the torturer was absent, the son came in to tease him, pulling his hair, throwing stones at him and even hitting him with sticks. Sable had long since given up resisting the taunts - he just wished the brat would finish him off. Why they kept him captive he never understood, and had long since given up thinking about.
"The crops have failed!" Torturer snapped, pulling the elf from the thunderworld. Sable understood, but did not care. "YOU have failed me bird-demon and you shall pay." He untied the rope, kicking the young elf forward, pushing him face first onto the hard packed soil of the hut. Sable did not see the knife in his hand, if he had of, he probably would have been happy, for it seemed death was about to come upon him. Straddling his delicate form, the human made a neat slicing motion across the side of the elf's head. A jabbing pain shot through Sable's body as his left ear tip was severed. He could feel the sticky blood trickling down his cheek. The human kicked him several times, before jerking him upright and tying him up again. Sable made no effort to struggle. In his head a rainstorm raged, turning the landscape to mud.
*
It had been three turns since Sable's disappearance. Ravendark had finally, to most of his flock's relief, given up his son as dead. Dawnclaw, in retaliation perhaps to Aurora's neglegience, had paired up with an older elf named Dewdrop, much to the budding chieftess' annoyance. Little brother Sable had ruined her life. Pharoah grew old, his feathers turning grey and his yellow facemask darkening. Already Cloud dominated him, the larger female beat him to the food and fought him away from the carrion they loved so dearly. Once again, the chief was starting to perform properly, which was just as well, because there had been rumours of desertion.
*
The small child watched him, its huge brown eyes filled with awe. Where it had come from, Sable neither knew or cared, although its presence was enough to bring him back to the cold reality.
"What are ya doin' in me uncle's shed?" The child asked. It was about Sable's age, female, with short-cropped mouse brown hair and a face that could only be described as plain.
Sable understood that the girl-child was asking what he was doing here, but he made no response, except to shrug, halfheartedly. Despite the similarity in age, the child was already slightly taller than he.
"I don't think e should keep ya locked up like that," she continued, and if she had seen his movement she had paid it no heed. "I found a litta bird once, fallen from its nest, me mama said I could keep it. Is that what happened to ya? Ya fall from ya nest?"
That statement was partly beyond Sable's limited comprehension. His clarity was starting to fade, a small hailstorm began in the back of his mind. He tried to push it back - this was new, this was different.
"The litta bird died," she stated. "But if it hadn't I woulda let it go, cos it's not nice keepin' birds locked up. I wish I could fly."
This was definately interesting, although the elf-child was not sure why. He had long ago given up any thoughts of escape, long ago given up any thoughts of anything. The hailstorm faded into a thick grey mist. "I ... wish ... I ... could ... fly ... too," he muttered, the first windwalker to speak aloud in many generations. Possibly the first windwalker to speak human ever.
The girl-child looked a little surprised. It was almost as though she was not sure he understood, but he did. Years of spying and the years of this tortue had given him the chance to understand human-speak. Verbalising aloud was strange though, making noises like he did to talk to Scrag on occasion. He wondeed when he would see Scrag again, what his beloved raven was doing. He had forgotten the tattered scrap of dried skin that hung from the roof.
"I wish I could see ya fly," the child continued. "But me unca would strap me if I let ya go." She paused. "But I could bring ya somethin' good to eat. Ya lookin' hungry, all skin and bone."
Although an inner part of him did not want to eat, wanted to just curl up and die, he could not help drooling a little at the mention of food.
The child grinned, "I getcha some biscuit then, aunie not mind, she gimme bickie all the time." She waved cheerfully at the sore, scarred elf-child and left the shed. A fly buzzed around his head, eventually deciding he was not dead enough yet to lay eggs in. Not dead enough in body anyway.
*
The spring had passed, and Sable had entered his fourth year of confinement. He missed the company of the human-child, she who had brought him the delicious food she called bickies. The thunderstorm of his mind had ebbed, becoming a summer rain. The world in his head was so much more peaceful than the last, so much more peaceful than reality, that Sable found himself delving into it more and more. If it had not been for the walks that Torturer gave him, leading him to the crops, occasionally beating him if whatever the man thought he was blessing, died or failed, then the elf would have long lost the ability to move. His wings were motly, the flight feathers bedraggled and some had fallen out. He might never fly again. His scrawny body, now reaching early adolescence, was all skin and bones - you could count his ribs by sight as well as feel. The clothing he had been captured in had long ago been stripped off him, and now he crouched naked as a babe. In winter, when the bittercold frosts descended on the land, Torturer gave him a blanket. An old blanket fill of fleas. A thin leather band hung about Torturer's neck, a piece of mummified ear hanging from it. Sable's ear-tip. The end was near for the chieftain's son - the end of sanity if not the end of existence. The only thing that had kept his tenuos grip on reality this long had been the mouse-haired niece of his Torturer.
*
Jay, lone elf, so consumed by guilt and solitude-lust that he would hide when his flock-mates came into view, perched on the rocky clifftop that was his home now. It had been a good hunt, Hook and he had dined on many a ravvit, with the vulture receiving the bones and he devouring the meat. Now the bearded vulture sat beside him, head resting comfortably on breast, eyes half-closed in satiation. Suddenly something alighted in a tree opposite, its movement startling the vulture awake. Jay glanced once, then glanced again, for it was a large black bird with a strong bill - a raven! Suddenly he remembered Scrag, and with it his long-lost friend. Many elves disappeared, some into the burning wastes, others struck by solitude-lust, but suddenly Jay realised something. It did not feel as though Sable were dead. He looked at the raven, and the raven watched him with its beady black eyes. One raven, surely that was a sign? The creatures lived in flocks, yet there was not a sign of another one in sight.
*
The raven came to Sable that night. Came to take his soul, carry it away to the regions of the dark. How it had got in the shed he could not tell, nor did he care. The large black bird cocked its head at him, cawing quietly, as if trying to tell him something. The rainstorm parted in a thin ray of light. It was winter, the deadcold, and the morning dew that had frozen on the roof dripped through the planks, chilling the naked elf's skin. Another raven appeared, pushing its way through the slight opening in the door, hopping forward to sit beside the other. It was as though they were saying "we've come for you Sable, come to take you from this world of pain."
Torturer stepped from his dwelling, carrying the ratty blanket that he should give his little bird-demon to help it survive the winter. Not that it mattered anymore, his crops had failed again and he was sure it was the demon's fault. So much for the little buggers being able to help the plants grow. He would have killed it that summer, but his niece appeared to like it, and he could hardly explain why his little curiousity piece suddenly disappeared. She had even asked him to release it, what a joke! As though the world needed mre of the little vermin running free. No, the little bird was safer in his shed than flying the skies above the village. Although he doubted that the creature would ever fly again. He had broken it as he would a dog, proving to his son and wife that the bird-demons of myth were nothing more than animals. In one hand he held a wooden hammer, perhaps it was time that the little beast died. As he approached the hut, his feet crackling on the frosty ground, it did not snow so close to the desert, but they were still at a high altitude, he recoiled in shock. The wooden shed was covered in large black birds!
Their raucous cawing and that way they stared at him as though accusing him, sent a shiver down his spine. And then one flew at him, and another. He screamed, dropping his hammer, as the sharp talons of a raven hurtled into his chest, sharp beak probing at his neck. Others flapped into his face. He tried feebly to pull himself back, away from the hut, to the sanctuary of the house, but his whole world was a maelstorm of ravens.
The dirty raven was flying towards the human village. Jay followed, almost struggling to keep up with the swiftly determined bird. It croaked, and another distant bird replied. Suddenly the village wall was before them, and Jay flapped easily over the barricade. The raven swept over a few houses, to drop onto the roof of a relatively large one. Jay followed suit, the whole thing was eerie, sending a shiver down his spine. The shiver turned to a cold blast as the raven glided from the roof to alight on a small wooden shed. Alight with hundreds of other ravens, so many ravens that their seemed to be a tornado of them, centred around a large, struggling figure. Jay glanced to the shed and knew, knew with some sixth sense, that was where Sable was. Dropping from the roof, barely bothering to attempt silence, the ravens were making enough noise to drown out his wingbeats, he approached the hut. The door was ajar. He pushed it open with his booted foot, peering into the gloom. It took a while for his eyes to adjust, took even longer for him to recognise the huddled figure as an elf. As quickly as a breath of wind he entered the hut, fumbling with the rope that bound his young friend. He was somewhat upset when no joy, no recognition, lit up the young elf's emerald green eyes, but that could wait. The child appeared to be staring, as if hypnotised, beyond him towards the struggling figure in the raven-cloud. Suddenly the knot came untied.
**Sable,** he sent, as hard as he could, hoping to break the child's reverie. **We must go now! Can you walk?** It seemed flying was too much to hope for. Suddenly, the fledgling turned his gaze from the melee outside. His eyes met Jay's deep blue ones. The emerald green depths seemed almost hypnotic, the tiny gold flecks tried to drag him in. Such was the intensity of the gaze. Jay shook his head, clearing from it the dazement that overtook him and grabbed the child in his arms. Hardly more than skin and bone, as light as a feather. Running, unable to fly with his burden, he left the hut. Some of the ravens dived into the air in front of him, leading him. The noise of the birds however had woken the village. Some of the villagers stood watching the man buried in the raven-cloud, jaws dropping and all but shaking in fear. One brave man tried to help, throwing himself into the maelstor and attempting to drag the human out. Jay dropped into the shadows, hoping the tangled mess of men and ravens would distract the humans enough for him to make his escape. He was sadly mistaken.
"It's gettin' away!" One observant human shrieked, running after him. The elf struggled to run, but the limp burden that was Sable was making things awkward. Although light, the fledgling was not much shorter than his rescuer.
**Sable, Blyk,** he sent desperately, invoking Sable's soulname, something he had learnt in his meditations of solitude-lust. This seemed to snap the broken elf from wherever he might be. **We must fly. I know you can do it, Blyk, if you do not fly than you will be taken back to that hut.**
The child did not respond, Jay was becoming desperate. **Fly damn you,** he sent, dropping the child on the ground. Sable groaned. The bold elf glanced about, preparing to fight off his pursuers, fight them to the death, when suddenly Sable clambered to his feet. The spasm of pain the child felt as he attempted to flap into the air was so strong that even Jay felt it, recoiling back as he watched the broken elf lurch clumsily into the air, with none of the skill he had displayed just under five turns ago. Jay ran, launching himself into the air, flapping beside the half-starved elf in an effort to ease the resistance. The ravens helped, their wings aiding in the lift. Behind them the humans cursed and threw stones.
*
Ravendark paced outside the cave. He wished his lifemate would let him in, let him be present as she healed the son he had given up for dead. But he was considered a distraction. The strain of it all had aged him considerably, the strain of his obsession, the strain of worry - it would soon be time for Aurora to take over chieftenship. Seeing his son, so broken, he knew that Sable would never be able to be chief. How the child had flown from the city he could not fathom. At least the hoards of ravens that had followed the two here had dispersed, with only one remaining. As dark as night, the raven perched on a ledge above the cave, watching Ravendark's pacing. He found himself hating ravens less now, they had brought his son back to him, they and the self-exiled elf called Jay.
It seemed an eternity before the tattered hide that hung over the entrance to the healing den was pushed aside and Moonshine, looking weary and sad, walked over and embraced her lifemate.
**I have done all I can,** she sent, **I have healed his body, but I feel his mind is beyond reach.** She smiled sadly.
Ravendark understood. How could not forget how the shape of the two elves had crossed into flock territory, two elves walking hand in hand, one leading, the other allowing himself to be lead with no resistance. Sable's pallid white skin had almost shone in the moonlight. Behind them, a cloud of ravens almost blocked out the light of the moons. Ravendark had run to his son, sweeping the delicate child up in his arms, sending to him frantically. And Sable had barely responded. He had not returned the hug, nor any of his father's sendings. It seemed as if, somewhere out there, he had lost his sould.
**You may see him now,** she said, knowing that was what the chief had been wanting to hear for most of the night. Ravendark hastened to enter the chamber, to see his son.
Sable sat with his back against the wall, his tattered wings wrapped around his legs. He was wearing clothing that had been his five years ago, before that awlful day, clothing that now was too large on his emanciated frame. He looked up as his father entered the chamber, his green eyes almost shining in the dark. And he smiled, ever so small, barely more than a twinge, but it was the first smile in five years. His father could not hold back his joy, his usually thoughtful expression twisting into a wide grin. He rushed forward and embraced his son. Sable hugged him back.
*
Fifty years had passed since Sable's abduction. Aurora was now chief, her father had tired of the job when Pharaoh had died, two years after the child's return. Cloud too was long gone. It was one of those terrible things, that windwalkers lived for thousands of years, but their animal friends for only a mere fraction of that. The child, now a young man, had never recovered from the time spent in that dingy shed. Solitude-lust consumed him for much of the time, and he would sit on the highest rock, gazing out across the deserts of sand for days on end, without food and little water. Always there was a raven with him, sometimes two or three, and every time one died of age, another materialised the next day to take its place. He never sent, although he appeared to recognise sendings still. His youthful nature had been entirely replaced with melancholy.
Jay glided in to roost beside him. The older elf still remained Sable's closed friend, and although the two never conversed, they seemed comfortable in each other's company.
**See that star?** Jay pointed to the brightest star in the moonlit sky, and Sable glanced at it. **We came from up there, or out ancestors did anyway,** he added, quite unnecessarily. Due to his lack of communication, some of the elves tended to patronise Sable, as though he could not understand them any more than an infant. That was not true of course, Sable knew everything, and remembered all. Jay tried not to patronise his friend, but sometimes it was hard not to, for it was like sending to a human.
Sable smiled slightly and nodded politely. The story of his ancestor's landings on the World of Two Moons was always at the forefront of his mind. How they had landed and how the humans had killed them. But he was always polite to Jay, for Jay had saved him, and Jay, amongst all his other age-mates, still spent time with him. The poor young elf could not forget those five horrible years. Sometimes, just before he went off to sleep, the thunderstorms would rage in his mind and he would forget who he was, and that he was safe now.
**Do you sometimes wonder if we might one day go back there?** Jay asked, lost in the reverie of solitude-lust as much as his friend.
Sable replied with a nod. There were no humans there, and thus his greatest desire was to travel there. To venture back to the homeland of his people and be content. It was hard to be content now, his body may have healed, apart from the jagged scar of his left ear, but his soul had been broken forever.
**Sometimes I wonder if there are others like us out there, living on different planets, in different worlds.** He paused. **And sometimes I wonder if we are the only ones left of our kin in this entire world and in that,** he motioned to the sky, **world of the stars.**
Sable shrugged. He wondered too. Wondered if his father's twin, Starlight and his kin still lived, and wondered if the rumours of the elves that rode wolves were true. Surely there were other elves out there, the world was such an enormous place, and the starlit sky was bigger still. Someday he would return home. Someday...
*
Spring had come again, bringing with her the warm breezes and ripe berryfruits. Ravendark sat on a rocky pinnacle, enjoying the heat of the sun. He watched his son in the gully below, the youngster was not doing much, merely crouching over the young turkey he had just killed, plucking its feathers. The hunting technique Sable used was similar to that of some species of eagles. With his surprising aerial acrobatics, he merely swooped on the turkey continuously, never permitting it to take flight until it tired and could be killed with a kick in the head by his sturdy boots. If it were not for his solitary nature, the youngster would have been a great pack hunter, maybe even a chief. The retired chief was saddened, to see one's spirit shattered so young.
As he watched, a raven glided down from the sky to alight in a tree. It was quickly followed by another, and another, soon the sky was dark with ravens. Ravendark smiled sadly, trying to choke back a tear. He knew what was to come, knew that he could not stop it. He knew that the son he had loved with all his heart had been killed by humans, and this new son, whom he loved still, would never accept him. Would never accept his kin. As the ravens engulfed Sable, before soaring up into the air, a small body flapping in their midst, Ravendark knew that he was about to lose his son again. And this time he would never return.