Disclaimer: see prologue.

I must apologize in advance for any formatting errors. I do suck at computer stuff. Hopefully the story will be good enough for those things to not matter too much. *This* is used to emphasize, since HTML and me are miles away.



Dialogue key:

"Speech"

'Thought'

*(Sending)



1.1.1 Chapter One: Stormbringer







"Learn!" They whispered, "Ask! Strive! Do not simply believe - know! Be more

than miserable, forgotten savages, left to the mercies of this world!"

Tom McGowen, "Odyssey from River Bend"





When he was but two eights old, a young Brightmane, very imaginative, eager and full of himself, took the name Skywise, and had been trying to live up to it ever since.

He was the Wolfriders' stargazer - an ambitious, dreamy soul with blue eyes permanently fixed on the night sky. He saw wonders in them, and life, and opportunity. He saw in them the destiny Elvenkind seemed to have lost with the fall of the High Ones.

The stars beckoned to Skywise, and he was no longer young - their call, it seemed, was gathering a measure of urgency.

He lay on his back as he often did in the cool evenings, sighing as he studied the sparkling dots of light dancing their slow dance above his head. He was friend and advisor to his chief and skilled in all practices of life as dictated by the Way. But he was no powerful fighter, no unmatched hunter, no skilled tracker. He was a stargazer, and had no place in the Now of Wolf Thought and Wolfrider life.

He flipped over to lie on his stomach and prodded the grass. He had not felt this useless since he was an untrained cub.

Cutter Kinseeker, chief of the Wolfriders, emerged from his eons of sleep harder, wiser and more self-assured than ever before. Skywise was, yes, but a cub near his longtime friend. Cutter no longer needed his council. That by itself did not bother the stargazer as much as he supposed it would - he was grateful, in his own way. But Cutter emerged with all traces of his love and lust for adventure, for questing gone. He wanted a home, his family and peace of mind. Of the reckless young chief he knew was left an old, tired husk - Cutter had seen too many seasons turn alone.

He emerged to his home, his family, his peace, the New Holt was a vivid green under the light spring rains and he had not even missed seeing his cubs grow. But for Skywise, his soul-brother, his companion in peril and journey, the Holt was a death trap of boredom and frustration.

'I miss your reckless days, Tam', the silver-haired Elf thought sadly, glancing back at his beloved stars.

He heard steps approach when they were still a few yards away, caught a scent on the wind before the Elf he smelled could sneak up on him. With his wolf blood gone, everything was less sharp, less real, but he was old enough to remember.

"Shade and sweet water, Zhantee," Skywise said dryly, making the Sun- villager jump.

"It's not fair how you Wolfriders do this to us," Zhantee complained as, in a few agile hops, he came and settled on the grass next to the younger Elf. Skywise blinked realizing even Zhantee, bouncy, free-spirited, headstrong Zhantee, was older than him. "We feel like impostors."

The stargazer's chuckle was bitter. "Remember who you talk to, 'cub'". The irony was not lost on either of them. Zhantee refrained from answering - Skywise hated to think of the reasons for the Jack-wolfrider's silence. He wanted neither faked ignorance nor pity.

It was not his fault, the way things happened to have rolled along, but he had a nagging feeling the entire tribe looked at him with contempt behind his back. Bitterness rose in him in large waves crashing to the shore of the otherwise peaceful moment.

"High Ones, they're beautiful . . . " Zhantee whispered suddenly.

Skywise blinked. "What, the stars? Have you never noticed?"

The Sun-villager shook his head briefly, and his eyes bounced immediately back to the sky. "Dart taught us of the Now of Wolf Thought. We . . . look different places," he smiled faintly. "But I've always liked the stars."

The silver-haired Elf nodded, feeling a sudden kinship to this almost- stranger from the desert depths. He'd make a good stargazer - perhaps one day. But the tribe would never need another stargazer. Their current one was effectively immortal, and had no more dangers left to rush headfirst into. Still, he - they - could always wonder what lay there, away, beyond this small world on its deserts and forests and mountains that seemed much smaller against the starry background.

"Do you ever wonder?"

The Wolfrider found his trail of thoughts shattered. "Wonder?"

"About what they are, what lies out there," Zhantee spoke the words with impressive casualness, lying back. "In the Sun-Village they tell the cubs that those are little eyes that look into your head, but I never believed that, I think," he sighed. "I think - I think there must be something more than the magic and the legends and the now, but I can't think of what."

Skywise felt something cringe somewhere inside him - had he not wondered, and been disappointed every time? Yet before he could answer, Zhantee leaped up from the grass, slamming a hand against his forehead.

"I forgot! A few of us are going to the edge of the forest. Dewshine sent me to ask you if you'd like to join us," he shrugged and spoke more quietly. "She said you looked like your own wolf-friend bit you. I thought that didn't happen . . . "

"It doesn't," Skywise replied with a smile. He stood up, stretched, and for a moment felt grateful. So someone had noticed his discomfort - he'd been waiting a while. "I think I'll come. There's bound to be quite a view."

Zhantee nodded and sprang like an arrowhead into the thick mass of trees, leaving the stargazer to contemplate the night sky alone a few more moments before he followed. So, Dewshine, High Ones bless her soul, knew something was eating at her friend. Did she think a better view of the stars would make him feel better?

Somehow, as he walked away into the forest, Skywise couldn't help but think it will only serve to make things worse.

******************************

The trees were a beautiful green, even where the forest faded. The ground there formed a rocky bulge; thin, yellow grass covered its hard surface. This was the cubs' favored spot when there still were cubs, and Tyleet and Venka could spend hours on the small hilltop, sitting around a fire and hearing stories under the endless velvety dark. Now it was still remembered as a place of howling and laughing, and though the chatters of youth were gone, the stars remained.

Skywise fell in love with the place from the moment he had first seen it - it was nothing short of Recognition. The space, the darkness, the solitude, he could not ask for more. in the first few months, at least.

It struck a pang of pain in him now, seeing it from the distance. He was suddenly aware that he was evading the hill in the last couple of weeks.

"Don't be such a puckernut face, Skywise!" Ember piped up, hopping and skipping around the rocks that dotted the edges of the wood. "This is a night for a howl, two or three at that!"

Redlance grabbed the girl's wrist and put a finger to his lips, frowning. The stargazer found himself grateful.

Ah, the silence.

And the darkness.

And the stars.

The older in the small group stopped in their tracks as Tyleet and the twins rushed forward. The night wind was cool and reviving on their faces, crickets chirped, the thin grass swished. The wolf pack howled deep in the forest behind them, a pleasing, almost musical sound that died out as quickly as it began, leaving them with the utter peace that was, many thought, the best feature of the New Holt.

Then the night was pierced by a shriek.

Skywise chided himself for not immediately recognizing the voice a while later - but now he merely stood puzzled as Redlance leaped forward. "That was Tyleet! The cubs -!"

Zhantee, Dewshine and Strongbow were already ahead of him. As one, the two Wolfriders and Sun-Villager were off to the top of the hill. Skywise and Redlance labored to match their friends' speed, the cool air slapping their faces suddenly. It was a short run, an anxious, perhaps careless burst of speed. Tyleet did not cry out again, but no other sounds came from her or the two cubs. Frightened and worried out of their Elfin minds, the five came to a scrambling halt on the hilltop, where Tyleet stood, not at all frightened, hiding behind her the pale, curiously peeking Suntop and Ember.

"My eyes see with joy . . .!" Redlance whispered in silent thanks and rushed forth to his cub's side. The others had not even the time to take another step before he, too, stopped cold, staring at something on the grass.

"Come," the tree-shaper said, his voice strangely husky. "Look."

They did, with slow suspicion, each wondering what could have shocked Redlance so. Tyleet was young - Ember and Suntop, while cubs of a chief, were still cubs. But Redlance - an elder.

At the first second, none of them understood what they were seeing, some twisted shape on the yellow grass . . . Then, with growing horror, they realized the faint movement was that of breath, the dark patches pools of blood, the living, terribly injured creature that lay there on the hilltop was an Elf.

"Timmorn's blood . . ." Dewshine mumbled, her face going white. "It's Tyldak!"

It was. And the sudden familiarity made the sight no easier to bare.

But eons of hard lives and hard deaths made the Wolfriders tough, used to sights of pain and terror. Sensitive ears quickly caught the sounds of a fading breath, and from that moment on, there were no questions or shock, no thoughts of friendship or enmity. There was the Now, and the now dictated swift, merciful action. That is, perhaps, its greatest merit.

They had little trouble carrying the unconscious Glider back to the Holt. The long, wiry Elfin limbs' weight went unnoticed on five pairs of strong hands. Dewshine felt, with a deep-rooted pang of concern mixed with certain fear, that her rejected lifemate was little more than skin and bones - he has neither eaten not rested in quite a while.

She gritted her teeth and lowered her head. No, this wasn't right. She *didn't* care for him.

The small group scrambled into the Holt with all due speed and all due carefulness, and soon was virtually besieged by curious onlookers. At the smell of Elfin blood, the whole tribe seemed to have slid down from the trees, and was now huddled together for a better look. Surprise registered on most faces; others showed fear, and yet others - gloat? Anger?

Panting from the hurried walk, Skywise was only able to cast a wide-eyed glance around him (on the edge of his vision, Venka, quietly anxious, asking after her mother . . .), before Strongbow's sending rang like thunder in all surrounding minds.

*(Get back! Back, you Troll-brains! He needs air to breath more than your worry!)

*(He needs Leetah,) Dewshine sent desperately as the crowd scattered like scolded cubs. Skywise nodded, and was ready to call out when Cutter and Leetah, the chief of the Wolfriders and his lifemate the Healer, appeared as the rims of the group and worked their way toward its center.

There was not much in the world that was left that could surprise Cutter, Skywise noticed far too soon after their reunion. His soul-brother's loss of wanderlust did not trouble him half as much as that one fact did. Wonder! What else was there in the world worth living for?

He never said that out loud, of course, and avoided sending like wildfire when the subject came up. He did not want the chief to laugh at his face - but that was unimportant. What truly frightened Skywise, perhaps, was that Cutter might agree.

Cutter might say it was natural, might claim it will happen to Skywise too, when he has seen enough.

The stargazer banished that thought with terrified hastiness.

"Well," Cutter said, smiling slightly as he walked through the crowd, the sights that shocked them still hidden from him. "What has my tribe . . . brought home . . ." his eyes abruptly widened, and his gaze snapped up to meet Skywise's. "Today . . ."

"We found him on the hilltop," Tyleet said by the way of apology.

"Like this?" Leetah choked out.

"We didn't - !" Dewshine erupted, much to the surprise of all present. Cutter swiftly moved to her side, placing a hand on her small shoulder.

"I believe you," he said quietly, turning to Leetah then. "Lifemate?"

For a moment, the Healer seemed lost. She stood frozen, her eyes charting realms unknown. It had been just a moment, the merest, smallest fraction of a second, but in that instant Cutter knew she was looking, calm and challenging, into the very eyes of death.

Looking - confronting - and setting out to do battle.

"By the Father Tree, somewhere," the beautiful Elf said absent-mindedly, moving away from the crowd. None followed her. They scattered back to their tasks and their trees. From this moment on, this is where the Healer threads alone.

Soon the small group was at the shade of the Father Tree, laying the still unmoving winged Elf on the soft grass between ancient roots, and left Leetah to her battle, which she fought ruthlessly, no matter whose life she was fighting for. It has always been a struggle - holding onto the soul while the body was being mended, giving her own strength to the healed - and she lived for it. In the magical glow, she saw crushed bones, torn muscles, pierced skin, all resorted, and too pride in a task well done.

She let go, exhausted, after several minutes, the light dissipating into the cool night air. She leaned back and sighed in drained relief, then, squinting in surprise, realized Tyldak was very much awake, and staring at her as if he'd never expected to see anything again.

"You're safe now," she assured him softly.

"I know," came the weak reply.

"What has happened?" Leetah felt remotely angry at herself for making him talk, or stay awake, for the matter, yet something she felt in the healing struggle perked her curiosity beyond any other thought.

"A Holt . . . made of metal . . ." fading back to unconsciousness, he tried hard to answer and she could see it. "And Kahvi . . . she . . ."

No, not now.

"Later," she said with resolve. "Sleep, now."

"But your chief . . . I have to . . ." no use. Exhaustion overcame the Glider. He let himself fade away into the merciful darkness, a silent, full sleep, more peaceful than anything he ever knew in weeks, dreamless, painless.

Tired but pleased, Leetah rose from the grass. Turning around, away from the thick Father Tree, she noticed Cutter, Treestump, Skywise and Strongbow glancing at her direction, exchanging whispered words. Seeing her stand, the chief approached his lifemate with all the careful silence of a hunter, the other Elders following him. They made no more noise than a falling leaf, and the Healer was grateful.

"Please don't wake him," she whispered. "He has seen hard times recently."

Her lifemate nodded. *(Did he tell you anything? Why he came here?)

*(He mentioned Kahvi . . .) Leetah frowned, *( . . . and a Holt . . . made of metal.)

Cutter visibly blinked. Treestump and Strongbow exchanged puzzled glances, perhaps lock-sending, then looked back at her with expectant disbelief.

Despite his every instinct, Skywise felt a sudden, wild rush of thrill run down his spine, flooding through his body and filling every limb. He gave in to the sensation, as if momentarily. Wonder!

Pouting, Treestump dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand and a set sending. *(Fever dreams. They would muddle a better Elf's head.)

*(And I am too good a healer to allow them,) Leetah shot back, her pride clearly hurt.

Strongbow's sending contained the closest mental equivalent to a snort. *(So you believe the rambling of this . . . creature of the Black Snake?)

*(Will the great warrior now hunt his wounded kin?) The Healer replied bravely.

The archer gave a sudden growl and almost lunged for her. Amazed by her own actions Leetah drew a knife. Cutter and Skywise leaped forward, the stargazer colliding powerfully against Strongbow, pushing him back. Leetah found herself hidden and protected by the bulk of her lifemate. As soon as anger flared it died out, and Strongbow stepped back, blinking, as if he failed to realize what he almost did in his rage.

*(I'm sorry,) he choked out. *(I'm so sorry - )

Cutter opened his mouth to reply, a low grunt, quiet and threatening, coming from the back of his throat, like a wolf scolding its lower companion. Before he could either send or speak, Leetah hurried forth and placed a hand on his chest, her gaze meeting his.

She looked back to Strongbow then, sending simply. *(You're forgiven.)

A sound from the grass behind the small group attracted their attention. Turning, the healer noted with certain anger that the noise of their tussle was sufficient to wake Tyldak, who was now groggily attempting to rise, half-leaning on the Father Tree.

Leetah and Skywise rushed to the winged Elf's aid, their small, strong arms forcing him to a strange sitting position among the enormous roots. Much to the former's surprise, he looked anything but healed - pale, weak and disoriented, his large brown eyes didn't focus on them and his speech came out in tormented pants as he addressed Cutter.

"You - Kinseeker! I've traveled weeks to find you! Y-you must . . . see what I have seen.!"

The others gave Cutter puzzled looks, but the chief's voice was firm when he replied. "The metal Holt - is that what you mean? You've seen a . . . metal Holt?"

"Yes . . .! Trees and bushes a-and . . . streams of shining metal . . . and Elves with . . . thunder-magics, and branches that spit fire . . .!"

Cutter glanced back at his tribesmen. Strongbow and Treestump's opinion was clear. Fever dreams.

Still, when his eyes locked on Skywise's, there was something in his soul- brother's gaze that made him think - made him imagine . . .

"Tell us more," he said finally.

But the words left his mouth a moment too late, as Tyldak lost his struggle with sleep once more. He slumped unconscious against the roots, and that was perhaps his bout of luck, for when the great wings fell, Skywise caught a startling shine of silver embedded in the bony arm.

The stargazer kneeled swiftly, carefully probing for the mysterious sliver. He looked back at Leetah. "The wing's broken. Didn't you . . .?"

"I felt . . . an oddity," she admitted. "I preferred to save my strength, try later."

Skywise frowned, unsheathing his knife. "There's something stuck in there, I can see it, glittering like New Moon's edge. I think it's making him ill somehow . . ."

With a quick thrust, he ripped through muscle and bone. Blood stained his blade, and the other four Elves cried out in shocked alarm. Yet before any of them had the chance to reach and stop him, Skywise was wiping his knife in one hand, and holding in the other a small cone of metal with a hard, pointed edge, red with Elfin blood.

"It's lighter than the Lodestone, smaller than an arrowhead . . ." he said, staring at the sliver with astonishment. "And yet it was lodged so deeply inside the bone I nearly couldn't pry it out. Timmorn's blood, Cutter! Who could've made such a terrible thing?"

"Humans!" Treestump declared abruptly, clenching his fists. "Who else would come up with so deadly a weapon - and coated with poison, to boot?"

"I don't smell any poison," the stargazer countered, shaking his head thoughtfully. He held out his find for the others to see. It was small, metallic, and shined innocently in the moonlight, only traces of dark red betraying its true nature. "I think the metal *is* the poison, even though I've never heard of such a thing before."

"Death-magic!" Leetah whispered, clamping a hand over her mouth.

Strongbow seemed puzzled. *(But the round-ears don't use magic. They're too stupid,) he returned their gazes with a confident one. (And I have never seen them work metal this way. It has to have been someone else...)

"The Elves from the Metal Holt!" Skywise concluded excitedly.

To his outmost amazement and surprise, Treestump, Strongbow and Cutter immediately grimaced. They exchanged stern looks, worried rather than interested, and their eyes gleamed dangerously. The chief, perhaps of instinct, placed one hand on New Moon's handle. It was the complete opposite of any reaction he expected from them, from the bold Strongbow, the wise Treestump and chief Cutter of the Wolfriders, called Kinseeker so many seasons ago.

"If . . . Elves . . . really made this - this metalkiller," Cutter said slowly, stroking his chin, "they must be different than any tribe we've ever met. Maybe they don't know our ways - maybe they'll come here."

His lifemate's eyes widened in alarm. "You don't mean - "

He nodded gravely. "Look at Tyldak now, and he's hardly weaker than any Wolfrider. Whomever they may be, why would they not do the same to us? Can magic stop a metalkiller? Can strong leathers? Can a healer mend such wounds? We might be surprised. They're more dangerous than the humans have ever been - and merciful High Ones, they attacked another Elf!"

Skywise opened his mouth intending to shout. The words gathered in his throat loud and angry. Abruptly, he caught sight of the Glider still sleeping between the roots, and all his rage instead exploded in a thundering send.

*(What?? What is it you're saying? Have you all gone mad? Here's a chance at an adventure - a greater adventure than any of us had ever seen! Here's a puzzle crying out to be solved - and you *fear* it? You *fight* it? What dung filled all your heads? What happened to *our* Way - what happened to the quest?) Desperately he flung his gaze to meet Cutter's, lock-sending. *(Tam, my brother, I don't know you anymore!)

It seemed to him then that he was to be scolded, or gently comforted till he broke and wept. He waited for neither option, instead turning and running deep into the woods, thinking all the while that his behavior was that of a capricious cub, but not truly caring, not until he was deep between the trees.

Cutter looked at his three tribesmen, stunned and confused. Strongbow shrugged in reply, Leetah and Treestump seemed speechless. None of them had true answers.

He lowered his eyes, sighing deeply inside. 'Fahr . . . must our ways constantly fork? You look to the stars, while I must guard this earth - this tribe!'

Glancing back at the sleeping Tyldak, he frowned in anger, and in a shame of sorts. 'Curse you, Glider, for raising this storm and my curiosity both!'

In the depth of the forest, away from the Holt, Skywise contemplated the night sky alone, and within the hour felt something take shape inside him - something new, and bold, and terrifying.



******************************

It was a few days before the storm darkened the air in the New Holt yet again. Tyldak recovered from his long journey slowly enough to drive both Cutter and Skywise slightly mad. At most times he was either asleep or closely guarded by Leetah, who let none approach her charge. When one of the two got around to trying to get some answers out of him, he seemed reluctant to give any that didn't concern precisely the "metal holt". Of how he found the place or of what happened there, he would not say one word. Pressing the matter often led to a forceful, teary refusal to talk any further.

"He's gone as mad as old Two-Edge," Cutter told Leetah one day, lying together in their den trying to make sense of the passing days. "I've despaired of asking him anything about what happened to him - he'd never tell me. He just starts . . . crying like a little cub."

"Leave him be a while, beloved," the healer answered. "He suffered much. He'll tell us eventually, else why come here? What troubles me." she frowned darkly, "what troubles me is, where is Kahvi? As I've been told, they were infatuated with each other when leaving the Holt. Could something . . .?" and she spoke no more, as if frightened.

Skywise bided his time returning to the matter. He avoided speaking with his chief, and slipped out of any conversation that turned to the Glider and his discovery. He toyed with the thing the tribe called "metalkiller", finding out it didn't stick to the Lodestone as most metals did, and that it indeed bore no poison - a far more troubling fact. He spent nights alone on the hilltop, trying to imagine what could a metal holt look like, what kind of creatures could live in it. He was charmed by the thought of tall, metallic Elves, shining like the moon with all the grace of a razor's edge, shaping cold iron as Redlance shaped branches and leaves.

The turning point came on the fifth night, when he was as fed up with starry solitude as he thought he could never be. Aroree found him wandering the forest edges, and offered him his favored comfort. Surprisingly, she seemed unhurt when refused.

"Not tonight," the stargazer said with a hint of sadness. "I'm sorry if - "

"Fear not, little love," the beautiful former Glider replied. She smiled a kind smile, lighting up her every feature, and snatched him up into the cold night air. "I know how troubled you are. You and Cutter have not spoken in - how many days has it been?"

"Five," he sighed deeply, heavily. "I - I don't understand, Aroree. He isn't like I remembered my soul-brother . . ."

"He has seen much - as we all have," she spoke softly, her voice like a bell in the silent darkness. Her very presence seemed to have made everything better. "He fears the unseen, the unknown . . ."

Skywise sobbed suddenly, a deep, racking sound. Hastily his lovemate landed, holding him tightly to her as they sat on the grass beneath infinite black. She stroked his hair and skin, giving him all the love she had to give, a love pure and unchallenged, unchanged by the passing turns. He cried quietly into the night, into her inviting embrace. "Is it always this way? Do you all fear it, Aroree? Will I fear it all one day?" he gasped, as if in pain. "I - I don't want to!"

"Sshhhh . . ." she whispered, pressing him to her, protecting him, treasuring him. "Only us, my beloved, my Skywise, you are not like all of us. Not you. I love you - and I promise you."

She took to the air again then and they flew a while until he relaxed, now breathing deeply, richly, the tears drying on his face. Under ivory moonlight they made love high above ground, and dawn found them still together, cuddled in Skywise's den against the morning cold, hands held beneath the furs.

The silver-haired Wolfrider stared at the sunrise, the pain of the night seeming far away. After a while, he talked, slowly, quietly.

"He and I are - were - brothers in all but blood . . . and he may think he no longer needs my council. But now more than ever he needs it, now at this very time."

"You would talk him into the quest . . ." Aroree said.

"Why not? He needs it - they all need it. They forgot what wondering *is*. Someone has to remind them. I won't have this tribe become like . . . like the Gliders . . . oh, beloved, I'm sorry . . ." his shoulders slumped and he shifted his gaze from the sun to the ground.

She chuckled in reply. "Hearing you talk like this . . . I wonder if it was not Cutter Tyldak came here to find, but you."

Skywise blinked, surprised. "What?"

"He was much like you, many eights ago," she answered casually. "A misty- eyed dreamer all about stars and wonder and flight. He tried to make all of us remember those same things you seek, and would have succeeded, if it was not for Winnowill . . ."

Without warning, Skywise leaped to his feet, grabbing for clothes. He dressed in a stumbling hurry, almost beaming with sudden thrill and hope. Aroree, startled, looked at him wide-eyed.

"But there's no Winnowill among the Wolfriders," he said joyously. "I can make them see, Aroree! We will yet go on this quest! I can make them - he'll help me!"

"Tyldak?" the surprised Elf asked, confused, but Skywise was already climbing out of the den, hopping down branches and sliding down the trunk, trembling with regained excitement. "But - he's not - not anymore - "

"He's like me - we don't fear it!" the stargazer shot back a cheerful cry before disappearing into the bushes below.

His lovemate looked after him, worry reflecting in her large, sad eyes, thoughts clashing inside her head like a storm. She nearly followed him, but stopped herself. No, she had no right. Neither her fear of his failure nor her fear of the quest must overcome here.

"High Ones be with you, little love," she muttered. "Oh, but you know not how Winnowill broke Tyldak . . . how she gave him wings and took his dreams . . ."

Skywise didn't hear the Glider-turned-Wolfrider as he ran to the Father Tree, all thoughts left his mind save that of the quest. The sudden hope for help - for understanding - was welcome as water in drought, he let it bloom, savoring it, not even thinking it might turn out to be false.

He found Tyldak sitting outside the den shaped for him from the roots, alone and perfectly still, silently welcoming the dawn. Five days passed since his unfortunate journey, and that time proved the best remedy. Leetah refused to heal his broken wing claiming she wouldn't have him just flying away still weakened, and the strange leafy bandaging wrapping the wounded wing-arm against the pain made him look even more alien than before. In body, if in body alone, he seemed well enough.

Thinking but a moment Skywise came and sat by him, and for several minutes, none of them spoke. They looked at the rising sun with reverence.

Finally, the Glider talked, not looking at Skywise's direction. "More questions, Wolfrider?"

"One," Skywise admitted.

"Then ask and leave me be. I was wrong to come here. When your healer mends my wing I won't be staying long."

"All right," entirely confident in a way that surprised him, the silver- haired Elf leaned back, "is it true that you were the Gliders' stargazer?"

Tyldak winced. "What gave you that idea?"

"Aroree told me."

"Aroree is like a chattering bird. She says many pretty nonsense."

"*Were* you?" Skywise insisted, catching the winged Elf's eyes.

"The Gliders haven't had a stargazer in a long time . . ." with heavy sadness, he sighed. "But yes, if you must know, I was."

They fell into silence again, then, that lasted for a long time as the sun climbed its daily course in the perfect blue sky, each weighting the other's words. Finally, it was Skywise who restarted the conversation, now turning to face the other Elf directly.

"I don't understand you, Tyldak," he said simply. "I'm the Wolfriders' stargazer, and High Ones know I try to make this tribe take all their lazy behinds and go on this quest of yours. But it seems I'm doing it alone. Do you even want us to go? Are you afraid?"

Their eyes locked. Tension gathered firm and clear in the morning air. The Wolfrider's gaze was forceful; challenging, a confident urge for action, an angry dare, a desperate plea for help.

His opponent stood his ground a small while, but soon, as both knew would happen, he broke.

"It's . . . because of Kahvi," Tyldak managed, shrinking away from the defying glare.

Skywise perked. It was the first time the name of the Go-Backs' chieftess was mentioned.

"Kahvi?" Despite himself, despite the Glider's silent, begging protest, he asked. "What - ?"

"*No!* I will not talk of her - not with any of you!" the sheer intensity of the cry rattled the stargazer, who stumbled backward, shocked. Breathing hard, Tyldak backed away from the other Elf, into the shadow of the Father Tree. His suddenly moist eyes snapped fire at the question. An armor stronger than either metal or magic seemed to enclose the ravaged winged Elf at the very mention of his lovemate's name, an armor that has not - and yes, may never be breached. "Leave me alone!"

Gaping, horrified at the other's pain and rage, Skywise did anything but that. Instead, as if by instinct, he leaped forward, grabbing for the healthy wing-arm, and spoke with firm calm he did not know where he found. "No, curse your empty head! I won't let this go on! Whatever this secret is, it's hurting you, don't you see? You have a metalkiller in your soul, you have to get it out!"

Tyldak froze. For a moment, everything was quiet, still.

Then he spoke, in a low, brooding voice. "What cares you about my soul, Wolfrider?"

"You - only you - can help me teach this tribe wonder," Skywise answered bravely.

Another pause - long, frightful, stretching into infinity.

Then the Glider nodded slowly. He said no more.

He looked down, closed his eyes -

And sent.

Skywise screamed.

Halfway across the Holt's ground, Elves lifted their heads and their eyes widened. Dropping all they held, they speeded to the Father Tree. There, they found the stargazer on his knees, holding his head, whimpering.

1.1.1.1 A small hand slipping from his, terrified eyes piercing him to the heart as she fell . . .

*(Fahr!!) sending frantically, Cutter dropped down next to his trembling, agonized friend. No comforting answer. His head snapped backward and his eyes looked daggers as Tyldak. "What have you done to him??"

"Told him what he asked for," the winged Elf replied, shivering himself. "No more, no less."

Skywise was dimly aware of the chaos as his fellow Wolfriders reached to touch, to comfort him. Nothing penetrated the high, shadowing walls of the terror that landed on him from a crushed spirit and tormented mind. He fought it, defied it as he would a nightmare, but hindering his every step, every thought was the knowledge that he was witnessing reality.

She loved to fly, loved so much to fly, and as high as possible, touch lips with the danger . . .

Fervently he clawed his way back to reality, back to the Now he could no longer cherish. He clang to his soul-brother's calls, the calls of the tribe, Timmain's caressing, sent comfort, a shield against the darkness. He was seeing all that happened, all that was, and with it, feeling all the pain.

She loved to fly, and the new place, and the thunder and fire and smoke, and suddenly this terrible feeling of *snap* and he tried to hold on to her he tried to keep her with him but it hurt it hurt so much and he couldn't stay up and couldn't stay awake and blood and pain and she was screaming screaming and he tried to hold her he tried he tried he tried.

And he couldn't.

*(Fahr! Soul-brother!)

*(Tam . . .! It hurts . . .!)

*(Don't let go! I will save you this time!)

The darkness melting like clouds in the sunlight.

Skywise looked up, sat back, staring.

"Ah . . . huh . . . I . . . still here . . ."

He lifted his gaze, found Cutter's, and every inch of his body relaxed.

"What happened?" the chief asked him sternly, his voice strained with audile concern.

"He showed me," Skywise breathed.

A few long minutes passed before he could tell them the story in its entire, and the tribe waited patiently until he collected all his wits. Tyldak retreated into his den and avoided all questions as he sat there, hidden and quietly whimpering, and most of all, perhaps, terrified by the unexpected relief that came simply from sharing his pain with another.

Moments stretched away and the tribe gathered round. The stargazer told his tale simply, without enthusiasm, without emotion. The images were vivid in his mind, the sounds, the smells, and the two hardest things, the touch (so warm, so soft . . .) and the feelings.

He told, quiet and detached, of how the two lovemates left the Go-Backs tribe behind them to chart realms unknown. How they traveled far down Sun- Goes-Down, beyond Rayek's breach, beyond the ruins of Blue Mountain. He told of a long journey, and of the destination.

He told of the metal Holt, and all eyes were on him, locked and glazing.

He could see it glowing in his mind.

Then he closed his eyes tightly, and told of the terrible thundering noise and the hard, painful impact. He could feel it. Unconsciously touching his arm, he told in harrowing details of how the proud winged Elf was hit, wounded and forced down. How he tried desperately to hold onto his lovemate, and how she slipped away, falling down, screaming as he helplessly watched until blessed darkness claimed him.

"It's real," Skywise finished, suddenly dizzy. "It happened, he saw it. I saw it."

He passed a long, piercing gaze on the faces of the Wolfriders. They showed shock, clear and present, and rage, and pain. Leetah, Dewshine and Redlance had tears in their haunted eyes. He felt a sense of cleansing, a weight dropping from his heart. The pain now belonged to them all.

Cutter broke the long silence with all the determination it was the chief's duty to muster. "I call council today, after sunset. Back to your tasks now, all of you," as the tribe began to scatter, talking quietly among themselves, he turned to Skywise. "I have to talk with you."

The stargazer nodded. "Say, on the hill? I'll come in a moment."

A quick confirmation, and the two friends parted, Cutter joining Leetah on the way back to their den. Skywise's gaze rested on them for a short while, then his back bent and he stared at the ground a full minute before turning back to the roots.

"Tyldak?" he called.

"Asleep. Go away," came the hasty reply.

"I . . . told them."

A long pause. "You did, didn't you?" the tone seemed to change, but unable to see inside the dark den, Skywise couldn't tell what the Glider truly felt. "Very well, what's done is done. I just hope you will not let it keep you awake at nights . . . or whenever it is you mad Elves sleep." Skywise couldn't help but chuckle - yes, there was a hidden note of amused irony in the comment. It was not merely his imagination. "I . . . I feel better, Wolfrider. By far. I must thank you."

"It's what friends are all about," Skywise whispered, but solely to himself, and no answer followed.

******************************



"What for all the High Ones' sake did you think you were doing??"

Skywise sighed at the shouted words. After eight eight eights of turns, Cutter still haven't learned to keep his voice down.

"He was in pain, Tam. I had to help."

"But to tell the tribe! I think maybe you finally lost your last footing in this world!"

Keeping his calm, the silver-haired Elf waited a moment, staring upward, wishing it was night. "Don't you think you're being too serious? It didn't hurt the tribe to know the Sun Folk exist, or."

"This is different," Cutter huffed. "A metal Holt. . . the metalkillers . . . it's all so new, dangerous . . ."

"So it's new," leaning back, Skywise shrugged casually, inside knowing he was struggling to keep the conversation's tone low. "We don't know if it's dangerous."

"If eight eight eights of turns taught me sometimes, it's that new is dangerous."

"Timmorn's blood, you sound like a Glider . . .!"

"Tell that to One-Eye, Vaya, Dewshine . . ." the chief didn't stop there. With horrible determination he counted all the dead, all those who lost dear ones, who lost their peace of mind, their stable, good life because of the Wolfriders' wild quests. Skywise listened for only a few moments and a gripping feeling of nausea engulfed him. By the tenth name he began trembling, and when Cutter mentioned his family's kidnapping, he sprang to his feet in careless, blind rage.

"What would you have me do??" he erupted, "Let you hide them in the trees forever, forgetting all they - all we ever were? They needed to know the truth, remember that there are other things out there, that life's not about howling and joining and Dreamberries! I made them *think*, Tam, I made them *curious*! I'm proud of what I did!"

"Still with your dreams," Cutter answered in a sort of calm that unnerved Skywise far more than any shouting. "Can't you understand that we no longer share them?"

Skywise stumbled back at that, gasping, as if struck.

"You don't mean that," he said hollowly.

Then the chief's rage finally flared, forcing its way out in a low, rumbling growl. The two soul-brothers looked each other deep in the eyes, none standing down. The building anger between them was racing toward explosion.

"If I was Bearclaw - " Cutter started, his voice dangerous.

"You'd hit me?" his friend quietly replied.

A moment later they were embracing, tears on their faces.

*(Fahr, I . . . I don't know what I was thinking . . .) Cutter's sending was deeply racked, almost fearful at what he was one wounding word away from doing. Skywise smiled faintly, sending his complete forgiveness.

Nothing would come between them.

They went down from the hill together, silent and brooding, but grateful for the peaceful end of the fight. The silence wasn't broken until a short distance from the Holt.

"The truth is I've been quite the dung-head, talking like I did, but I keep thinking . . ." Skywise sighed. "I don't know what I keep thinking. It's been so long and I thought I'd used to - oh, but what am I saying? Peace and quiet were never my idea of a life."

Cutter places a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry you feel like that . . . but wait a while, you'll see peace and quiet are a blessing. Maybe not for many more turns, but someday . . . you can wait, can't you?"

Somberly, Skywise nodded and they made the rest of the way to the Holt without adding another word. All the short way, he could feel the bitterness rise in him.



******************************



Tyleet deeply regretted that she didn't hear Skywise's tale firsthand. She was on the other side of the Holt, and did not hear the scream that alerted most of the Wolfriders, thus missing the actual unfolding of the tale. Venka shared it with her in picturesque sending, but it was not quite the same to the excitable, curious little Elf. She couldn't refrain from thinking that some essential detail was dropped in the process, that she was missing out on something. She hated feeling left out.

To Tyleet, there was always something more. She had never been content with the usual facts, the usual ways, ever seeking out the deeper elements, working her way with and around them with simple, bright elegance. In that sense, she felt kin to Skywise, and upon seeing what occurred through Venka's mind, immediately knew how he felt.

"He'd give his wolf's soul to go on this quest - if he still had one," she told her dark friend that same day. They both sat by the stream, bare feet dangling inside the water and Preservers fluttering all around. "I've never been on a quest . . ."

Venka nodded solemnly. "Me neither, even when the Palace returns, it was not . . . for real, was it?" Tyleet shook her head, red-gold curls ruffling, and the sorceress continued, a troubled expression forming on her face. "The thought of leaving the Holt is . . ."

"Disturbing?"

"Exactly!"

"I don't know," on pure whim, the redheaded Elf slipped out of her clothes and into the water. In seconds, the coolness of the stream gave her thoughts added clarity. Venka sat patiently on the bank. "Mother and father went on many quests, many places. Sorrow's End, Blue Mountain, the Frozen Mountains, and most of them turned out for the best. The twins, Mender and Windkin were born because of those quests, I was born because of the Palace . . ." deep in thoughts now, she lay back until the water covered her head. She leaped out, gasping, splashing over every single Preserver with accuracy that couldn't have been completely due to chance. "I'd like to go look for other places . . ."

"My mother is - was also a traveler," Venka noted dryly. She seemed unshaken by the changing of tense, looking perfectly calm and elegant as she sat cross-legged on the bank's soft grass. But Tyleet's eyes shot wide and she virtually sprang from the water. Leaning two hands on the muddy ground, she looked up at her friend with sudden shock.

"Oh, High Ones! I didn't realize . . ."

The dark-skinned Elf didn't move, but abruptly blinked, stunned by the thought that she had not really realized either. 'Mother . . . is dead. I can't truly believe that.!'

Tyleet waited patiently until her childhood friend spoke at last, in a slow, extremely measured voice. "She was a Go-Back. She would have wanted it . . . eventually . . ."

"You didn't even get to say goodbye . . ." the younger girl thought aloud, her gaze unfocused. Venka felt herself stiffen. No . . . she didn't.

But what did it matter, after eight eight eights of turns? What had she and her mother in common except their blood? She did not even fulfill Kahvi's will that she take her revenge on her father, Rayek. She was a Wolfrider, had been raised and lived as one, had nothing to do with the Go-Backs, their dances, their quick, violent lives. She was the magic they refused to trust. She was the calm head her mother never gained. They had nothing in common, nothing at all.

'She left me. I was almost a cub, and she left me, wandered off with that . . . bird-Elf. The last words she spoke to me were of vengeance. And then she walked away. She left me.'

"I said goodbye a long time ago," she heard herself deadpan.

Tyleet dove deep into water and was gone under the waves.

Venka sat idly waiting for her return. She was no longer thinking, no longer feeling. The quest seemed a distant, strange idea.

One Preserver - she could never tell them apart - abandoned the colorful group and fluttered down to settle on her shoulder. Digging into her hair, it caught sight of her face and, in a tiny, low voice softly asked. "Prettydark Highthing all sad-sad?"

'No,' Venka thought, though she said nothing, 'I'm not sad at all.'

Tyleet knew, in a detached way, that she was very upset as she swam against the flow, up the course of the stream. She knew she left Venka alone on the bank without even warning her that she was leaving, but that didn't seem to matter. She knew someone would go looking for her if she swam too far and too long, but left that to the coming time and concentrated on the immediate now. She swam forcefully, pushing her way through.

She grew angrier and angrier each time she replayed Venka's words in her mind. Said goodbye a long time ago, is what her mother would have wanted. 'I don't care, I don't think I should care, end of howl.' She felt the abrupt need to scream.

'Why am I so angry?' Tyleet thought, stretching on a rock sticking from the stream, warmed all morning by the sun. 'Kahvi left Venka when she was still a little cub. I should understand how bad it feels! I've been a mother . . .'

"Oh - Patience!"

Grinning warmly and jumping to the ground at the sight of the wolf emerging from the bushes, its tail swish-swashing about, Tyleet recalled with some embarrassment that she left her clothes with Venka down the stream. Ah well, that meant an interesting ride back. But that also meant coming face to face with the Elfin sorceress - far, far too soon.

Feeling haunted, she climbed on Patience's back, thinking to herself that if anyone touched her mother, she'd pursue them - be they Elf, Troll or even human - to the end of the world. Riding down the river, she found her clothes in a cluster of bushes and quickly threw them on. She considered riding away without confronting her friend, but then froze.

Voices could be heard from afar. Extremely keen Elfin ears caught and recognized the silky tones of Venka's speech from thirty feet away, and then two more voices, which, hushed as they may be, rang with the clearness and firmness of ice.

'Skot? Krim?' Tyleet blinked, her curiosity perked. She patted Patience's back, and the two settled on the ground, listening, so quiet and still they made no sound that could betray them.

"Cutter would have your heads for this," came Venka's smooth voice.

"We Go-Backs have little use for our heads," was Krim's answer. Skot gave an audible snicker. "With the exception of you, of course."

"I'm no Go-Back."

"Oh, who are you fooling, chieftess-cub?" Skot said loudly. "You're Kahvi's blood. It's all over you, no matter what you pretend to be. You owe us her dance . . ."

"You owe us much more," his lifemate intervened. "Blood for blood, is what you owe us. Vengeance."

Tyleet could hear the dry leafs shuffled as Venka moved back. "No. There will be no blood. This tribe has no need of an insane quest for vengeance. I wouldn't hear of it."

Skot spat a curse. Krim jumped and grabbed the dark Elf's arm, the sudden movement behind the bushes startling the little onlooker. "Just who do you think you are, girl? You've already defied your mother once not ridding this world of the mate of the Black Snake. Pay her in her death what you wouldn't pay in her life!"

Watching, fascinated, thoughts crashing like waves in her head, Tyleet failed to notice when the bored Patience stuck her nose in the wrong place. The wolf sneezed loudly enough to scatter the Preservers, and the three arguing Elves' heads immediately snapped in the noise's direction.

"Someone's here . . .!" Skot whispered.

He looked at Krim wide-eyed. She was frozen, her eyes moving nervously from side to side. Venka rose and pushed some cluttered bushes away. Tyleet was ready to claim she had only gotten there a moment ago, but not for her friend's reaction.

"Tyleet?!" never before had she heard such panicked alarm in Venka's voice. She leaped to her feet, shocked and frightened, not even thinking of scolding Patience. The sorceress wasn't angry, nor did she seem surprised - just horrified, unable to say another word.

"I . . . I didn't hear a-anything . . ." the redheaded Elf tried weakly.

*(There's only truth in *sending*,) Skot sent angrily.

She bowed her head.

"This whole discussion has just become pointless," Venka said, sounding incredibly tired suddenly. "Tyleet, you heard what we talked of? Send."

Gritting her teeth, she obeyed. *(I did.)

"And what do you have to say about it?"

This question surprised her. She wasn't ready for it. She wasn't ready to have her say in the matter, didn't think the chance would occur. Now that it did, she was aware of how strangely eager she sounded, but made no attempt to hide it. "I say we go. I say we take ourselves and find Skywise's metal Holt. Not for vengeance or for Kahvi's blood or because of anything like that . . ." she flashed a brief, glowing smile at them, "but because I'm driven mad with curiosity. And truthfully, aren't you?"

******************************



The sun began to arch down on its daily course. Cutter watched it from a thick branch high on the Father Tree. Soon he will call his tribe for council. He was nervous.

Skywise would have his say in this council - he knew that clear as day. And Skywise was a good speaker, who could make opinions swerve in his direction with ease if putting his mind to it. Dangerous as his idea may be, his innate charm made everything seem possible.

It was those possibilities that made Cutter fear the council's outcome. He once spoke for similar causes, pursued similar dreams, but the seasons turned many times since then, danger became a consideration - fear a driving force.

'He makes me feel so old,' the chief thought tiredly, 'he makes me feel so cowardly. The way he'd rush into things it seemed he talked me out of rushing into only yesterday . . . what happened to me that I think these kind of thoughts? What have I lost between the seasons?'

He knew his father before him lived three times as many turns as he had, and still had not grown indifferent. Bearclaw knew how to keep his love of life - not so much how to keep lives. He hunted the bear, he played tricks on the humans, he ran circles around danger staring it in the eyes, and every once in a while, he got close enough for a painful brush.

'One-Eye, Crescent, Shale, Eyes-High . . .'

No.

'I won't lose them - not one of them! Not to anything, anything!' There was anger in the thought. He was afraid of the adventure he used to crave. He feared for his tribe, for his family . . . he had so much to lose, so much too dear to let go of.

The quest - the quest that once was his lifeblood - was it a worthy price? Never travel again, never reach out, reach far, never seek the unknown, the strange, the different. Never take his tribe on mad journeys chasing dreams long ago forgotten. It wasn't the Way, he told himself, it went against the Now of Wolf Thought - but what 'now'? There was no 'Now' to him.

'If I were alone, Fahr, I'd go with you. If I knew my family, the tribe, all of them were safe, if I could bear to be away from them, I'd go on your quest and damned be the fear. But High Ones, I can't, not again, not again . . .'

And taking the whole tribe would be an unpardonable crime.

They could survive without dreams, not so without food, water, shelter . . . each other . . .

He'll have to speak in council of all these things today. Some will be on his side. Strongbow, Treestump, Moonshade . . . the elder, the sensible. But Tyleet, Pike, Zhantee, his own cubs, what would they say? Whom would they trust? It was up to him to convince them, make them see and understand.

Make them see and understand the things he never did?

A wave of pain crashed over him suddenly.

Flicking away his gaze from the descending sun, Cutter made his quick way to the ground. Leetah and Skywise waited there, looking up at him until he was before them. He avoided the stargazer's eyes as best he could, already knowing what lay in their blue depths.

He kept an air of firmness as he walked to them, head held high. "You two wanted something?"

They exchanged a quick glance, than Leetah spoke. "I thought you may want to know - Tyldak asked we end his matter today. In a moment, I'll heal him and he'll be leaving the Holt tonight. Perhaps you'd want to call off the council . . ."

"No," every one of his instincts told him to jump at the opportunity. It will pass like a storm that comes and goes, like a harsh strike of wind, leaving nothing but calm behind. But he didn't have to look at Skywise to know better. "Ask him to stay one night more. He may be needed . . . to guide us."

He heard a little gasp of thrill from the direction he was trying not to look.

"If the tribe agrees," he added uncomfortably.

The three of them encircled the thick Father Tree, stopping near Tyldak's den. The winged Elf sat among the roots, silently acknowledging their arrival. He had torn off the leafs that bandaged his wing-arm and was staring at the wound with macabre fascination.

"You are letting me go, healer?" he said in a strange, faintly humorous manner.

Leetah stood unfazed. "Now that you've regained enough strength . . ."

He shrugged. She settled down on the grass, taking the broken limb in her gentle hands, her touch like silk and honey. Magic began to gather in the air, glowed bright and shiny, pulsing in the merry hum of life that was the essence of healing. Leetah focused only slightly at first, then frowned heavily, then something went clearly, terribly wrong.

The magic light crumbled, as if consumed from within, the slight warmth subsided with frightening abruptness. The beautiful healer was sweating, shaking with unexplained effort, her fingers tightened and Tyldak cried out in shocked agony. She battled whatever happened to her magic a few moments later, then let go, falling back into the terrified Cutter's arms.

"Lifemate! Leetah! Answer me, please!" he begged, pressed her trembling body to his.

"I . . . I'm all right . . . I'm all right . . ." she breathed and he virtually collapsed with relief. But relief did not come for Leetah yet. She shakily stood up and turned back.

An expression of complete, indescribable dread lined Tyldak's face as he found his wing unhealed.

"But you said . . ." he choked out.

She seemed just as stunned for a few moments, then, without warning, fell to her knees, sobbing and raging.

"It's her!" she cried. "Again, her! I should have guessed. That . . . forever cursed . . . snake! Oh, I'm sorry, Tyldak, I'm sorry . . .!"

Cutter and Skywise quickly settled by her, the former reaching out to touch, to comfort. "What?"

"It's Winnowill - Winnowill and her dark magic . . ." the healer replied, refusing all attempts to ease her pain and anger. "The monster . . . had most likely wanted to assure he could never fly where she did not want him flying . . . can't be healed! Not by me - not by any save the Black Snake herself!"

The air around them seemed to have gone deathly cold at that, the moment freezing, stopping like the stream in the worst white-colds. Around the treetops rustled, birds chirped and the wind blew, and the image seemed remote against the blue sky. The peace of the day was torn asunder by Leetah's quieting sobs and Tyldak's heavy breath.

Cutter held his trembling lifemate to him, his loving support unwavering, unending. Fail as she had, he showed no care. Skywise, for his part, leaned over to examine the broken bone more closely. Tyldak didn't move - didn't even wince away in pain. He stared in quiet, terrible disbelief.

"It's bad," the Wolfrider said darkly. "A hunter's break. Those keep a bird grounded even months after healing. I don't think - "

"Don't say it!" Leetah whispered urgently.

He stopped in his track, looking, at her, uncertain. The stunned Glider gave him a haunted gaze.

"N-no, it - it can't be. I've f-flown all the way here . . ." he said desperately.

Cutter and Skywise exchanged horrified glances. "Like this?!"

"It . . . didn't hurt as much, before . . ."

The stargazer abruptly buried his face in his hands. "Merciful High Ones! Weren't you thinking? You've made it so much worse!"

"I had to get here . . .!" panic was rising in Tyldak's voice, sheer, unbelieving, deep panic. 'Does that mean . . . it must mean . . . it can't mean that . . . will I never . . .'

"Couldn't you wait - !" Skywise would've continued, could've continued a while more. Anger tore at him, not anger at the careless Glider, not even at the mysterious entities who hurt him so, but utter, blind, helpless rage at the world that allowed such things to happen. It was the world he wanted to shout at, to demand justice from. He stopped with strange suddenness at mid-sentence, feeling Leetah's gentle touch on his shoulder.

*(I think he couldn't,) she sent to him alone.

Taking in a sharp breath, he stepped backward, swallowed his anger, turned around not to let the others see the look in his eyes.

They've stood helpless, considering, for long minutes.

"If none of you minds . . ." Tyldak said finally, his voice careful, forcefully held back, shaking slightly. "I think . . . I would like to be alone a while now."

He dragged himself into the shadow of the den. The three Wolfriders remained where they stood in dark silence. Cutter glanced up.

"The sun is almost down."

He turned to his lifemate and soul-brother. Leetah was much calmer than before, even though in her eyes was still a look of fear and hidden pain. Skywise was as bitter and quietly angry as he has ever seen him, and didn't meet his eyes. He sat on the ground and fiddled with the grass aimlessly.

Tearing his gaze away, he looked to the healer, as if for guidance. She returned his pleading gaze with one of understanding - complete, unchallenging understanding, free of judgement, free of demand.

"Call council," she softly said.



******************************



They gathered round the Father Tree as they have done for millennia, the entire tribe, hunters and magic-wielders, elders and cubs, gathered silently, summoned by an ancient call. They came to hear destinies decided, perhaps take part in the decision, to settle things with words before rushing into action. Such was the council's purpose, had been since the dawn of time. No chief would act without the council's approval, no quest will be undertaken, no important deeds be done. The fate of the tribe lay in the balance, and it was the tribe and the tribe alone that will decide it.

Cutter studied his Wolfriders' faces as one by one they settles around, among and upon the huge roots, shaped especially for this end. Will they hear him? Will they agree? Will he be trusted - or perhaps disobeyed - or perhaps challenged? No clue in the wondering eyes.

He saw Skywise take his place opposite of him in the circle. They no longer avoided each other's gazes, the distance between them colder, realer than ever.

The rest of the tribe each took their places in easy, chatter-filled calm. He felt a sharp pant of envy. What had they to decide of tomorrow? They lived, and always may live, in the true Now, from day to day without thinking of another day. No weight was on their shoulders. Their mistakes, even the direst, were their own as will be their deaths, while he could afford no mistake.

Responsibility darkening the air all around him, he looked around and his heart went out to them. There precious careless, simple lives . . . he'd let no one disturb them. Let them be kept in ignorance if that is what was needed! Let them stay in one place, living one routine! They may not achieve the great, the hallowed, the extraordinary - but ah, they'll be happy, happy as he could no longer remember being.

The tribe gathered for council, he waited.

He waited, and looked at them, and hated Skywise, and hated himself.

The circle of waiting, whispering Elves seemed to Skywise as if it were about to close down on him, crush him violently and painfully. Still it expanded as more and more of them arrived. With each new arrival he felt a little cold shiver run down his spine, knowing one more heart and mind were there to judge him - everything he was, everything he lived for, everything he thought made life worth living.

It no longer concerned the quest - he has the stars' own time to roam this world and see all that was to be seen. It concerned him; it was the stargazer's trial. Will he prevail? And if he will not, what can he do? If he would be rejected tonight, he would never again belong among them.

'Hear me', he silently called to the tribesmen, 'trust me. The stars I offer you - the stars!'

He glanced upward. He heart the stars' call loud and clear. Did they, too?

'Still with your dreams. can't you understand that we no longer share them?'

He shuddered remembering what Cutter said. The words tore a bleeding hole in his heart.

'Tam.' he began silently, then stopped cold.

No words left, no words.

Everything will be said and sealed tonight.

'My voice betrays me,' Cutter thought as he rose to speak. His words seemed to escape him, lacking the controlled confidence he mastered over eight eights of eights. With time, his tone took on a commanding air. He learned how words can shape wills, hopes and desires, the language of authority. But now, before a tribe united for the first time in eons, rising to speak against his dearest soul's-friend, everything he learned seemed to disappear like dew in the unforgiving sunlight, leaving him empty, vulnerable. He knew his voice was shaking from the moment he began.

"We're facing a hard decision, I'm sure you all know," he said, feeling their curious, probing eyes on him. "I know it's long since we've been on a quest, and maybe it burns in your blood as it does in mine - and this may surprise you, but as chief, I have to remind you of the dangers. We have a good Holt here, and with the humans so close by, can we really risk leaving it deserted for a while? And we have cubs with us. I wouldn't have anyone snatched away again. And last time we've been on a quest, well." his voice grew stronger and more stable with every word, every carefully considered notion. But their eyes gave him no hint of the struggle they were all struggling deep within. He went on. "Does anyone even know what we're going to face? Friends, enemies, nobody at all. High Ones, perhaps another Winnowill! You've all seen the thing we had to dig out of Tyldak's wing. That wound can't be healed, it turns out. Leetah claims it's because of the Black Snake's magic, but who knows? Yes, I'd give the Chief's Lock to go on that quest, but it's not a risk I'm going to make - or to ask any of you to take."

Silence, like a wet fur on a fire . . . Cutter settled down next to his lifemate, stunned by his own words.

Another long, strange beat. The Elves moved uncomfortably. Skywise felt the pressure gathering like storm clouds in the air. 'All eyes on me.'

He didn't think about leaving the Holt to the humans. He didn't consider the cubs. He didn't think the chief would tell them of Tyldak's misfortune. He didn't think they might be finding an enemy.

He didn't think. He felt something freeze in his innards.

He must speak before the council. He must make them see what he sees. Him, who was a mere cub, a nobody with even his wolf blood gone, to speak before the council, to show the tribe what he failed to make his own soul-brother see.

'Was I wrong?' Maybe he was. Maybe best to give it all up. Maybe he'd bow his head and stay silent as one of his stature ought to do. He could take the burning defeat if they did not refuse claims he voiced, if it wasn't him they rejected but the quest. He could live until enough turns have passed to grant him back his self-assurance and their respect. He could wait.

'You can wait, can't you?'

Gasping quietly, he looked up and caught Tyleet's eyes. The fair redhead winked, smiling a little enigmatic smile.

His heart leaped to his throat, and he rose to speak.

"If anyone told you this would be easy, rip him to shreds," he began slowly. "It's never been easy and it'll never be. And puckernuts, we've never done it because it was easy. Every thing worth fighting for is hard. *That's* why we do it. That's why we didn't stay in the Sun Village or in the Forbidden Grove or, for all the High Ones' sake, in Blue Mountain. Because every time there was something worth fighting for. Every time it was hard, I can assure you, or you think I don't remember broken arms and stone cages? It's what we live for, all of us, for what's hard and worth it." Abruptly his back straightened, he looked each and every one of them in the eyes. "And I'll tell you this, if anything was ever worth it, it's this quest. When have you last gone out to face the unknown? I beg of you, don't let this spark die!"

He sat down, and the trial began.

They looked at each other a few moments, as if unaware of the greater battle fought here in this arena between the towering roots. Redlance spoke first.

"I say we go and see what we can find along the way. I can't say I'm thrilled about getting a metalkiller in me, but truly, since when have we been concerned about the 'might-be's? It's not the Way, and I won't walk it."

"You're forgetting," Clearbrook pointed out calmly, holding out her palms. "The Way wasn't a lot of things before Cutter's time. This is what it means to learn from past mistakes."

"As if we ever do that anyway!" Pike declared with a hint of snappy resentment.

*(I did,) Strongbow's sending had his old, unwavering determination. He looked at his chief and his mighty fists clenched. (I say leave this foolishness. The tribe follows its chief.)

"Blindly?" Nightfall teased. To the surprise of all, Moonshade nodded.

"We have little time to think this through, but I do believe we can always turn back, where's the harm in trying?"

"Tell that to my lifemate," Clearbrook replied quietly.

"Perhaps she would, yet!" Treestump chimed in, clearly angered. "I myself can't believe you're even considering the idea. Haven't we been through enough? Maybe - we're not meant to have seen it all. Maybe all the happened with the Palace is a punishment, for all we've done wrong . . ."

Skywise jumped to his feet. "It's not wrong!" he cried. "It's perfectly just. An Elf should look beyond the tip of his nose. Where would we have been if we hadn't?"

It was Scouter who answered him - a wounding surprise. There was no emotion in the other Elf's voice, no admonition, no judgement. Just the calm, low words, worse than any scream. "Back in the Sun Village - Safe."

Half a dozen voices rose in quiet, fearful agreement. ". . . were safe, and then this whole quest idea comes and . . ." "A punishment, maybe we weren't meant to find the Palace at all . . ." "Madness, chasing metal Elves and the stars in the sky . . ." " . . . should take no part in this, I mean . . ." "High Ones! Another Winnowill!" " . . . and let the humans have the Holt? Like we'd ever . . ." "Cutter's right, Cutter must be right . . ."

The stargazer staggered. He fell to a sitting position, pressing his knees to his chest.

"Can't you all see . . .?" He whispered. "You're dying in your dens like the Gliders . . . drying up . . . burning out . . ."

"It's madness you're trying to drag us into," Cutter said quietly, his voice devoid of life and meaning.

Skywise looked slightly up, felt the numbness all over his body. "Fine, I'll go alone."

"Alone? You mustn't!" Dewshine jumped.

"Tyldak will come with me. He has nothing here."

Treestump gave a quick snort. "A crippled Glider and a stargazer without even his wolf's blood - you'll both be dead within a day."

"It will be a quick death, at least," he mumbled, but for none to hear. He was aware of little more than the blood's pump in his ears, the faint scent of flowers carried on the wind from places far away. Heavy gray clouds covered the sky. The stars' light was no longer upon him.

Vaguely, he heard Cutter's voice ask. "What says you all?", a few more sentences, a few more lines in his final verdict. General agreement, general acceptance, nothing more said or done. It all happened so quickly . . . a blink, and it was sealed, it was over, and he lost.

He rose slowly, his limbs seemingly made of stone. He paid no attention to the scoffs, the whispered, even denied the kind, pitying gazes. He brushed aside Leetah, Nightfall, Redlance, stepped out of the circle, away from the Father Tree. His eyes remained locked on the ground.

It was done, it was over, he lost, and he had the stars' own time to ponder it.



******************************

Dewshine was of the quieter Wolfriders - small, gentle and sweet. It went against her nature to perform great fits of courageous disobedience. She was as tough and cunning as any of her tribe, but not reckless or wild. When she pulled Scouter aside after council, it came as much as a surprise to her as it did to him. She certainly didn't mean what she was going to say and do, and the repercussions can wait, hopefully well behind the next turn of her slippery, wolf-like trail of thoughts.

Though he seemed confused, her lovemate followed her without complaint or question. That was one of the things she loved so much about him - his enduring faith in her. In the hardest time, her loyal, brave Scouter will be by her side. Even in times as hard as this.

They've gone quite a distance away from the Holt and toward the edge of the forest. He walked after her in silence, only once asking where they were headed. She leaned a slim finger against her lips and led him into a patch of thorny bushes. Beneath them was a small borrow, once used by a wolf not of the pack. It was concealed and the plants above blocked smell and sound. Thankfully, Scouter immediately understood the need for stealth, and didn't question it, even not knowing its purpose.

"There - it's all right here!" Dewshine finally whispered, settling down. He obediently did the same.

"Why all this?" He asked, keeping his voice low as she peeked about to see if they weren't being followed.

"Do you trust me?"

Scouter stood offended. "With my life, what kind of a question is - "

"I'm going with Skywise," she cut him off with heartbreaking honestly.

That caught him off guard. For a moment, he could only stare at her with wide brown eyes.

"Are you mad?" He breathed finally. "The entire tribe decided. We're taking no part in this. He can go anywhere he wants, but we can't follow."

"I'm not asking you, beloved. I'm telling you."

Shocked by her direct approach, her confident, simple words, he blinked several times before answering, feeling his control beginning to waver. "High Ones, why? If he and Tyldak want to get themselves killed, let them, but - "

"That's just it - I can't let Tyldak throw his life away like this. Wolfrider or no Wolfrider, we're still Recognized . . ."

"In body, I'd say so, and Windkin would agree. But in soul?" he was losing her, he knew it. He was growing desperate. Dewshine's Recognition was not a pleasant one. Stirring memories of it would anger her, perhaps turn her against him. But it may also show her, remind her of the true meaning of When Soul Meets Soul.

"It won't work, not this time," she said through gritted teeth. "I . . . don't love Tyldak, but long ago, he loved me. I may owe him nothing but this one thing - but this one thing, *I owe him.*"

"Dewshine - beloved - think! Think of what you say! I beg of you to think!"

"It's not about thinking. It's past that, something completely different. It's something I have to do out of something in my soul. I have to do it. *This* is Recognition. *This* is what it means to be soul-mates."

Scouter felt his throat tighten, his eyes run moist, worry, anger and an overwhelming sense of loss fell upon him like masses of snow in white-cold. Through long eights of turns he feared this moment, saw it in sweaty nightmares and dark days. One day, he knew, this call, this ancient call all Elves must heed, will reclaim her, his precious lovemate. But never in his worst nightmares did he think the call would lure her away from the Holt, away from him, into all the unknown dangers he feared he could never protect her from.

Unthinking, unaware, he heard himself say: "I'll come with you."

And against his every expectation, Dewshine let out a squeal of delight, throwing her slim arms around his neck. "Ooh! How I hoped you will! I thought I may have to do it alone . . . and I was so afraid . . .!"

Pressing him to her with endless warmth, with a silent promise of devotion, protection, care, he no longer heard her relieved chattering. He could only hold her in trembling arms, feel the weight dropping from his chest, and wonder how could he ever be so stupid as to doubt their love.

Looking outward at the sky, the moment was abruptly shattered as Scouter found himself looking into the giggling Pike's eyes. Aroree was there also by the Howlkeeper, looking part charmed and part quite embarrassed. They were both waiting patiently, making not a sound.

"Can we join in?" Pike asked with a wide smile.

The younger Elf leaped to his feet, startling Dewshine and banging his head on the thick ground above it. All the things he suddenly intended to let Pike know he thought of him made way to one yelp. "Puckernuts! What - ?"

"Pike said we won't be heard out here . . ." Aroree said in quiet apology.

"I never told anyone of this place," Pike added, completely honest. He was no longer smirking, now intend on having his trespassing forgiven. "I didn't know you lovebirds would be . . ." then it happened. He truly caught the look in Scouter and Dewshine's eyes, and had gone slightly pale at that. "Oh . . . now I see . . . oh, rotten fish guts . . . you - you don't really mean to . . ."

"Go." Scouter's voice was dangerous as it has rarely been. His brown eyes, normally calm, flashed silent fire. "Go, you've heard nothing."

"Wait!" Quick as a little fox, Dewshine leaped from behind him and out of the borrow just as the frightened Pike and Aroree began to back away. "You were going to . . ." her voice drifted off, as if on its own.

For a moment the two stood uncertain and Scouter glared from within the borrow. Dewshine's gaze was deep and heartfelt, one of touching trust. She was afraid, she was lonely, she was being driven by a will and need greater, far removed from her own. She'll take all the little risks to face the big one.

At last, Pike understood, and nodded. "We were going . . . and, ah, Skot and Krim, too. Maybe Tyleet, Venka, Zhantee . . ."

Scouter rolled his eyes. "Oh, by Two-Spear's madness! Is there anyone left out of this?"

"We talked Mender out of joining. Ember might get some ideas she shouldn't."

Dewshine was beaming. She climbed to the open and her lovemate after her, and she looked at him with exploding excitement "Eight and one of us! What can stand in our way now?"

"Cutter can, if he finds out," Aroree said shortly, in a businesslike manner strange for her. They knew her well enough to notice the tension in her bell-chime voice. "We had better leave tonight, my friends, tomorrow at most . . ."

"Does Skywise know?" Scouter asked wearily, now knowing their fate was sealed.

"She said she'll tell him," Pike nodded toward Aroree. "But since you two know, we might as well go all together. Everyone else is preparing - we leave by sunrise," meekly he added, "we hope."

"I must talk with my father . . ." Dewshine mused, then blinked. "Oh! I can't, can I?"

"My mother is best not knowing either. They'll know where we went once we're gone," her lovemate agreed. He turned to Pike and Aroree. "Curses on all your heads, but there's no turning back. I promised Dewshine I'll come with her and so help me, I will. Where would Skywise be now?"

The two glanced at each other. "I saw him speak to Cutter and run off," Pike said. "He's probably with Tyldak on the hill somewhere. Honestly, you'd think they were lovemates!"

Scouter sputtered. Dewshine burst into giggles.

"Then we go," she said, perfectly relieved, perfectly beautiful in her joy under starlight. "We go."



******************************



The two moons shone high in the sky, no cloud of the many gathered obscuring their light. Skywise could only be grateful for that as he wandered absently, away from the Father Tree and the tribe and toward the depth of the forest. The rest of the Wolfriders were still occupied discussing the council, and he took comfort in the solitude. Nothing else was left for him, miserable outcast, unheeded prophet, cub stargazer without his wolf blood, nothing at all.

His tribe denied him, his friends turned from him, his soul-brother stood against him. He felt lighter than air, as if any random gust of wind could snatch him away and leave him to the mercy of the gathering storm. There was nothing left to hold on to, no connection to the world, not even the quest. Even that hope was gone.

He felt a rustle in the mess of bushes and branches behind him, stood motionless, eyes closed, as Cutter emerged and hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Fahr."

A ripple passed through his every muscle. He contained it, spoke slowly.

"*Sorry?*"

He heard the chief sigh, didn't turn to look at him, didn't want to see him, wanted to be caught in the wind and taken away from it all, far away, someplace he'd belong, like before, like a blink away.

"I don't regret a word I said, mind you, but I . . . I do wish they'd have chosen otherwise, I truly do."

"Oh, really," Skywise didn't mean for his voice to sound so wounding. It came out on its own so cynical and cold. He stood his ground, as if afraid any move will lead his fists to disobey him as his voice did. 'Shout at me, oppose me, humiliate me before this whole tribe, but for all the High Ones, don't lie to me. If this is how it has to happen, let it happen already.' "You're *sorry* they all now take me for a fool, then? You're *sorry* for taking from me the only thing I've longed for the past six turns? You're *sorry*, I suppose, for what this tribe has become?"

From behind him came a low growl. Cutter gritted his teeth in mindless anger. His comforting pat was turning into a crushing grip.

"I don't have to take this dung from you," he whispered dangerously. "I am sorry, and I thought I'd let you know. But if that's all you can think about."

"Oh, please!" shaking off the chief's hand, Skywise turned, now an image of burning, erupting rage, his breath hard and face red. He stumbled back a few steps, fighting for control. "You think you can erase it all? 'I'm sorry for everything, Fahr. We're still brothers, aren't we?' and then it's all better? Is that it? Is this what you came to expect from all these lazy, cowardly excuses for Wolfriders? Please! I'm better than that!"

Had he been thinking but a moment ahead, had he been truly aware of what he was saying, not merely snapping in hot, focused rage, had he not spoken with a real and all-consuming intention to hurt, he would never have said it. He would never have thought of saying it. He would never have dared. Now, he thought of it all a moment too late.

Cutter struck him hard enough to send him tumbling to the ground, blood spluttering from his mouth and nose.

He was only dimly aware of the next few moments as he lifted himself weakly on one elbow, wiping his face, hazily surprised at the taste of blood. The chief loomed over him, dark in the moonlight and terrible in his rage. Cutter said nothing, looked down at him with something so close to pity, it stuck like a poison arrow in his very soul.

*(If you insist,) there was venom in every word, (I will stuff eight eight eights of turns into your empty little head, and let you know exactly how much better you are than this tribe.)

Feeling his chest constrict, in a flash of blinding, shocked pain, Skywise realized he was afraid, deathly afraid of his chief and soul-brother. This figure towering over him was not the cub-chief desperate for guidance, nor the loving forever friend of days past. It was a new creature, born of bitterness and suspicion, one he could never hope to know or befriend. A quiet wail, like an injured wolf's, escaped from him.

*(T-Tam . . . I . . . w-what happened to you? What happened to us . . .? We were . . . b-brothers . . .)

Through a curtain of tears he saw Cutter's stony expression melt, saw his eyes grow wide, horror sparking in their depths. Before his beaten, sobbing friend, the chief of the Wolfriders kneeled.

"High Ones forgive me . . ." he choked out.

Abruptly, he stumbled forward and pressed Skywise to him hard, his grasp soft, warm and cherishing, eternal. In that moment the stargazer forgot all, forgave all, nothing mattered except his friend's nearness, all else can be lost, all else be damned.

Nothing would come between them.

"*I* forgive you." he whispered. "*I* forgive you."

Neither of them knew how long they were sitting on the muddy ground, holding each other gently, breathing slowly, deeply, in perfect rhythm, knowing nothing but each other and a bond nothing could break. Bit by bit they moved away, until finally Cutter stood, looked around him and sighed.

"Leetah will wonder where I've gone," he said softly, offering Skywise a hand, which he accepted gratefully. "It's yours, Fahr, the quest, the decision. I won't stop you . . . but I'll worry about you . . ."

The stargazer allowed himself a faint smile. "I know, Tam. I know."

A spark of old fire lit up momentarily in the elder chief's eyes, and then he turned and disappeared into the thick green forest.

Skywise stood, wiped his eyes and went to the hill.

It was a bad night for star-watching. The sky was almost entirely obscured by clouds, promising hard rain by morning, and their luring depths could not be seen. Still the hill stood bathed in the light of the two moons, and he knew all the answers he needed would come to him here. One sentence of Cutter's rang over and over in his mind. 'It's yours, Fahr, the quest, the decision . . .'

Could he go?

'Alone? You mustn't!'

With Cutter, or not at all? Was that the face of things?

'Tyldak will come with me. He has nothing here.'

Not Cutter, not his soul-brother, not his travelling companion of old.

'A crippled Glider and a stargazer without even his wolf blood - you'll both be dead within a day.'

A stargazer without even his wolf blood . . .

A stargazer . . .

Skywise looked up. A tiny light flashed at him shortly from within the clouds.

Who else, then?

He quickened his pace.

As he expected, he found Tyldak on the hilltop. The winged Elf shared his love of the barren place, with its beautiful view of the sky. They spent some of the past day there, together, merely looking upward until their eyes could no longer tolerate the emptiness. They spoke but little. What was there worth speaking of before all the sky's glory?

But in the few words he said, the Glider proved to Skywise he had never met a soul so kin to his own.

A short climb, and then the thoughtful stargazer settled on the yellow grass, leaned back and studied the clouds. He said nothing of the afternoon's events or the council. There was still something uneven in Tyldak's gaze, his eyes were reddened and torn wide. With a start, Skywise realized he must have been crying for several hours.

He said nothing. No words of comfort, not any words could be enough.

"Look at the clouds," Tyldak whispered, transfixed, "look at them up there. What are they? How did they get there? I once tried to fly to the clouds, but up there, after a while, the heat and air fade, and I dropped like a rock. I was sick for a long time after that, and I thought - sometimes I still think - that I was being punished for flying too high."

Skywise gulped and pressed his knees to his chest. "And . . . do you really believe that?"

The Glider didn't answer for a while. After moments of cold, tense silence, they looked at each other and their eyes met.

"There is no such thing as flying too high," they said as one, and smiled suddenly.

They relished the quiet, peaceful night another moment, then Skywise spoke. "I'm going on the quest."

Tyldak visibly blinked. "Alone?"

"I . . . was hoping you'd come with me."

A sarcastic hint in his voice, now. "Me? Of all this wondrous tribe, a crippled stranger?"

The Wolfrider carefully considered his next words, but they seemed to come out on their own. "You are, at least, crippled in body. They - why, they're crippled in spirit. You tell me what's worse."

There was a long pause, then: "I can't."

Skywise froze. "What? Why??"

"I'm tired, Wolfrider, I'm burned out. If I've ever felt wanderlust, that died with Kahvi. I've no desire to return to that cursed place of metal and pain. I don't know what hurts worse anymore - my body or my soul - but they both beg for rest."

"You can rest . . ." Skywise stuttered, shocked at the unexpected, striking refusal. "We can wait as long as you wish. The quest is mine, we go when we choose . . ."

Unfazed, Tyldak slowly shook his head, closing his still moist eyes. "We will be, then, waiting for something that would never return."

"No . . . it couldn't be . . . it couldn't be . . ." the stargazer muttered over and over. No pain dealt to him by Cutter's fists could have matched this stabbing wound from someone he had almost thought to be his only friend left. Once the shock of disappointment faded, his mind furiously set to work. Tyldak couldn't mean what he said, not Tyldak as well.

"I . . . see . . ." he finally said, with an air of full control. "But then, you must want revenge on them."

Tyldak frowned in obvious misunderstanding. "What? Why would I - "

"What I say is, all they've done to you, you must hate them," he kept a completely straight face.

"Hate them?" More than confused, the Glider seemed genuinely appalled "I - "

"Don't you hate them? They killed your lovemate, sent you crawling back here, looking for us savages for help!"

"I can't say I hate them. . . ! How would they know - "

"It's their fault you can't fly, you know," Skywise innocently mused on, not meeting the other Elf's eyes. "Their metalkillers broke your wing. Even if you did ruin it flying here, it is their fault in the first place!"

"But to hate them -!"

"All they've done to you, you must hate them -!"

"I *don't know* them!" Tyldak cried finally, stumbling away from the strangely grinning Skywise. "How can I hate what I never saw? There's nothing to hate about shadows, there's nothing to hate about guesses and belief!"

"Then you see!" the stargazer leaped in triumph. "You see! It burns in you - the need to *know*, not to merely trust the shadows and the guesses and the beliefs. It's not lost for you yet! Come with me - fly with me! This time the clouds are so much nearer . . .!"

He breathed the cold night's air deeply, his eyes sparkling with the fire of his beloved stars. He won.

*He won.*

Tyldak was dumbstruck, sat considering a few more minutes. The trap he'd fallen in was masterfully planned - he'd give Skywise that much. But to set out on the quest - by land, no longer high in the heavens - to the place where he lost everything, lovemate and love of life - whom would he ever follow there?

Still he felt the fire rise in him. Daring, adventure, *knowledge*, not merely faith. He feared the Metal Holt Elves, because he knew nothing of them. They were threatening ghosts in his mind, huge and terrible, faceless shadows. Perhaps knowledge could bring them to the light.

'To fly - all that I ask. To conquer the wind that kills and steals and freezes. To fly, to tame it, to know its secrets . . . and never be afraid again . . .'

His mind reeled. 'Have I said these words? So long ago . . . I asked for wings . . . have I said these words?'

Could he truly no longer remember?

"You win, Wolfrider," he heard himself say. "I'll go with you."

To his own surprise, under the loving moonlight, Skywise threw his head back and laughed, laughed freely, without pain and care, a rich, hollering laughter of relief, of overwhelming victory.

"One day," he gasped through tears of laughter, "I'll get me my own wings, and you will teach me the secret of flight. We'll rule the heavens, you an I!"

He was far too pleased, his soul far too free suddenly, to notice how obligatory, how strangely tired was Tyldak's smile. The fire rekindled, all the winged Elf could think of were journeys, long, beautiful journeys high above ground, old, forgotten journeys. 'I will never rule the heavens . . . never again. . . '

He was grateful for the distraction when his sensitive ears picked up distant voices. A group of Elves was climbing up the hill. Glancing at Skywise, he saw the stargazer tense and rise from the yellow grass. For a moment they both kept dead silence, listening.

"Someone's coming," Skywise said sternly.

"Many someones."

"Can you smell who - oh, of course," he smiled a knowing smile. "No wolf blood."

"You're talking?" Tyldak shot back mercilessly.

"Oh, go join with a Troll. And keep quiet while you do. The less to know we're leaving the better," he settled down and turned his gaze to the sky; no stars in sight. He huffed. "So much for innocently contemplating the stars."

"So much for Wolfrider humor, if I dare say. It's a whole lot of your tribe, and some of those idiotic spitting things."

"Preservers."

"Whatever you say."

'I could be having this same conversation with Cutter,' Skywise wondered.

Five Elves were revealed against the cloudy sky: Pike, Aroree, Dewshine, Scouter and Zhantee. They walked hesitantly, with a measure to their steps that made it seem as if at any given moment they'd turn around. With a slight sigh, Skywise rose and walked toward them, hands on hips, looking his most authoritative. With luck, he'd leave the Holt behind him tomorrow with no one there to bid him goodbye - much less let him know how they'll regret his premature demise.

"Shade and sweet water," he greeted simply, feeling his presence governing over theirs, a wolf protecting its territory. "No stars tonight, I'm afraid."

Pike looked at Dewshine, Scouter nudged Aroree, Zhantee blushed darkly. It was the Howlkeeper who finally spoke. "We're not here for the stars."

He flashed a slightly dangerous smile. "Come to talk to me of the error of my ways?"

"We've come to ask to join you," Dewshine blurted out, and stumbled backwards into Scouter's arms.

The effect of these simple words was stunning and not quite immediate as they registered slowly in Skywise's mind. He blinked, stiffened and fell back on the grassy ground, remaining sitting there and looking at the five rather foolishly.

"What -?" He whispered, gaping.

"And it's not just us!" Zhantee spoke quickly. "Skot and Krim and Tyleet and Venka are coming, too . . . if you'll have us."

"What are they talking about?" Tyldak inquired, making his way from further up the hill.

"They . . ." the words barely left Skywise's mouth - he could not bring himself to believe them. "They say they want to come with us," he started laughing quietly to himself. "They want to come with us! Oh, my eyes see with joy! A true quest! Together!"

The Glider gave the group one quick, inconsiderate glance. He gave no visible sign of registering Dewshine's presence among them, but inside could feel his heart quicken. All these years, and still he could pierce the very depths of her soul with his gaze.

That troubled him less than the thought of his soul open and yielding before hers.

'Lree . . . I've never forgotten . . .'

But seeing deep inside her soul, he said nothing.

Gingerly rising to his feet, Skywise studied his unexpected allies with a suspicion of sorts. He could take such a feat from Zhantee and Pike, definitely from Tyleet, but Scouter's presence and the mentioning of Venka and the Go-Backs came as a surprise. In a way strangely removed from being angered and yet harshly dissatisfied he realized not half of the group was coming for reasons like his own - true curiosity. The others' motives escaped him.

He quietly noted the look Dewshine and Tyldak exchanged. This is her connection, then. Could Skot and Krim be after Kahvi's killer? And if . . .

With an inaudible grunt, he stopped himself. They were coming - what else mattered?

'They come, but not for me or for what I've stood for. Is that any way to start a quest? Should I take them for their actions - or be angry at their motives?'

He shook his head. 'You're thinking too much of it all, Fahr. If Cutter were here, he'd take them without blinking, simply because he can . . . but I'm not Cutter, am I . . . but I may be losing a

chance . . . but will . . .'

"When are we leaving, then?" came Tyldak's straightforward, disinterested voice, shattering his trail of thoughts and kicking him back to the immediate reality. At that moment, he learned the first lesson of many of the quest - the point where thinking stops.

'I'm deathly afraid, aren't I?' He concluded with a strange calm and smiled at his six followers confidently. "Sunrise. Tell no one - they will try to stop us, have no doubt. Sleep well tonight and take along only what you're sure you'll need. Let Cutter and the others sit here and grovel - we go!"

*(We go!!) the six of them cheered in reply, all motives and fears forgotten, one heart in the quest as one mind on the cry.

They went down from the hill slowly, one by one, as to not be seen together and raise suspicion. Each Elf wordlessly headed to their own den with their own troubling thoughts. Aroree's mind was entirely on Skywise, his excitement and joy at their support, all her worries melting before the memory of his smile. Pike's thoughts were of howls and his lifemates; Tyldak's of knowledge and wind. Dewshine was dreamy yet determined as she rested her head on the shoulder of Scouter, who looked up and truly saw the sky for the first time in many turns.

Skywise caught Zhantee the moment the Jack-wolfrider was about to descend the hill, teeming with wild excitement. It pained him to have to say the words he was to say - but there was no other choice. It was a duty of a sort, perhaps the same duty that pushed him to confront his chief time and again, consequences be damned. Something has to be done, and if it fell to him to do it, very well. He'd taken far worse than a begging pair of eyes.

"Zhantee - I have to ask . . . that you stay," he said, catching the other Elf's gaze.

Zhantee's dark hide paled, his joy faded instantly. "Stay? Why?"

"I don't know what we're going to run into," answered the stargazer, with complete honesty, no threat, fear or demand in his voice. "We might not make it back - I might not make it back. If I don't, and while I'm gone, this tribe will need a stargazer."

One expression speedily replaced the other on the small, round face - surprise, sudden resentment, disappointed grief, and finally, a hint of pride.

"I understand," Zhantee said, straightening. In the moons' outpouring light, space spread beyond the hill, behind him, he was a stargazer in every fiber of his being. Skywise's breath caught in his chest abruptly. "I stay proudly."

Beaming with joy and thanks, Skywise took Zhantee's hand in his, grasping a firm grasp of ancient brotherhood. "High Ones bless you, noble one!"

"And you, on your journey . . . I will see it through your eyes yet!"

"So you will!" they laughed quietly, freely, their voices snatched away in the wind heralding the coming storm. Skywise's heart was ready to burst with the thrill of the evening. He found friendship where he never thought to look.

Still something was amiss for him as he made his way back to the Holt, something old and true throughout the turning seasons. He repeatedly dismissed the feeling as nonexistent, dangerous and foolish, but try as he might it was there. He longed for true understanding, for a bond not new and untried, for love born not of chance but of time and trial. What was he still lacking, with friends and lovemate by his side and a quest awaiting at dawn?

Seeing the Father Tree from afar, the answer came to him as if by magic.

He smiled, gave in to the feeling and climbed into Cutter's den.



******************************



Skywise awoke the next morning as if from a blissful dream. Determined rays of sunlight prodded him out of sleep, and for a while he lay half-awake in the sunny patch, smiling to himself in a carelessly silly fashion. Something very good happened last night, and he was having trouble recalling just what.

Glancing around him through the sweet fog of morning calm, he caught sight of Cutter sitting by him on the soft furs, smiling slightly. The den was otherwise empty. Leetah and the cubs were very quick to realize the two of them wanted to be alone.

He stretched lazily, his mind on nothing at all. The previous night had been far too enjoyable to let go of so easily.

"I was getting worried," the chief said, chuckling. "We haven't been at it that late, have we?"

Skywise smiled innocently. "I can't imagine where you got that idea."

"It's been too long."

"By far."

"I take it yesterday's done with?" The stargazer didn't even think before nodding in reply, and Cutter fell back on the fur, yawning. "Good . . . oooh, that late indeed . . . the sun's too high for sleeping, puckernuts . . ."

At the mentioning of the sun, Skywise lurched, a sick feeling suddenly gathering in his stomach. He leaped for a clear look outside. The sun shone high in the sky, the morning already half-gone.!

"Timmorn's blood! It's late!!" he yelped, fully awake, all other thoughts forgotten. He dressed in a scrambling hurry, dread and anxiety mercilessly chewing at him. Could his small group have been discovered? And High Ones, what then? Cutter would never forgive him . . .

For now, the chief sat and watched in surprise, he too shaken out of sleepy pleasure, and was slower than his friend to react. When he finally grabbed for his own leathers, Skywise had already slipped the Lodestone around his neck and was virtually sliding down the tree, breathing hard as he ran the direction Cutter knew well - toward the hill.

Muttering a curse under his breath - when will his friend's mind be clear of that obsession? - Cutter pulled on his clothes quickly and sent for Holdfast, who appeared below in moments, yipping excitedly. He dove down the trunk onto the wolf's back and set on a speedy run between the trees, tearing through the forest with all the swiftness of four powerful legs and two wild, free souls. The wolf and the wolf-chief stormed through the tribe already about its daily routine, tore across the edges of the forest, and were at the foot of the hill within moments.

Cutter froze, instructed Holdfast to do the same.

On the distant hilltop, Skywise wasn't alone. Far from that. He was virtually besieged by Elves - nervous, chattering Elves and their Wolf- friends spreading the smell of raw fear within fifty feet's range. The chief felt his throat tighten as he stared - eight more of his tribe stood there with the stargazer, conversing in hushed tones and looking around them, as if keeping a dreadful secret.

With Holdfast walking by his side, he began progressing slowly up the hill. They weren't looking now. He was starting to catch snippets of their conversation - a remark of a long way, one line about hunting, someone mentioning dangers . . .

*Dangers!* What was he thinking? Leaping back on his wolf, now powerful and imposing, looking at all from above, he rode up to meet them, not even trying to hide his presence. He saw Tyleet go pale when she noticed him, tugging at Skywise's arm. The others turned and their bright gazes faded, fearfully they started backing away in anxious embarrassment. To his complete, uncomfortable surprise, Skywise stood his ground, calmer and more collected than he'd seen him in days.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Cutter asked hoarsely.

"Going," the stargazer answered boldly, folding his arms in silent defense. "We're going, please don't try to stop us."

"I . . . see," Something was decidedly strange about Skywise's demeanor - something new, unlike anything the chief has seen before. He told himself he was being careful when he edged slightly away from the cold blue eyes. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because I'd hate to have to challenge you."

That truly shocked Cutter, making him wince and almost stumble off Holdfast's back. For several long minutes, he said nothing, every word snatched from his mouth. In all his long turns as chief of the Wolfriders, never had anyone spoken to him so. He felt dizzy - he never imagined . . .

The small group exchanged shocked glances between themselves, but no whispers followed these. No words were said as there were no words for what happened before their very eyes. They stared at the two soul-brothers, mesmerized, waiting to see how the struggle of wills might turn out.

For a small eternity, Cutter and Skywise stared at each other. The air reeked of tension, climax and turning of fates.

*(Brothers, you said,) the chief sent stonily.

Skywise nodded. *(Brothers, I thought, and maybe I was wrong. I thought I could make you see what I see, I was wrong. I thought I could change you, I was wrong. I thought you'd hear me, I was wrong. I thought nothing would come between us . . .)

*(You were right.)

Cutter lowered his head, slid off his wolf's back, turned his back to the group, and turned to leave.

*(Go. Before my head gets the better of me,) they didn't move, and he forced the send, gritting his teeth in agony and anger. (Go, I said!)

Stunned, confused and frightened, they turned to go, hopping on their wolves and rushing them down the hill and away toward Sun-Goes-Down. Cutter fell on the soft yellow grass and hugged his knees to his chest, and soon Holdfast was licking the warm tears off his face.

Skywise took his band of travelers away from the New Holt, on the rocky land outside the forest surrounding it and past it to the flatlands beyond. None of them took but one look back at all they've left behind, perhaps never to return. Their eyes were only forward.

The storm had come and passed.



To Be Continued in chapter two - "The Quest Renewed"!